#that burst took a million years

[mooningningg]

"You're insufferable." part i, jjk.

-in which you got in a heated argument with jjk men.

part ii.

toji, satoru, and nanami, (f).

warnings, genre. swearing! not proofread! | angst to fluff! |

notes i. this was requested from like a year ago so... yeah.

Toji. the scarred man was flaring up your temper for sure, you sat at the your side of the passanger seat. drowning in your own sea of thoughts whilst you looked outside the window of the moving car. tiny drops of water was plastered right on the car window. the sound of pitter-patter by the rain can be heard but slightly muffled.

the car however was silent, toji, your boyfriend was driving with a deadly grip on the steering wheel. you both were driving home after a disasterous date. it was going on fine at the beginning but all of a sudden, your meticulous boyfriend and you were suddenly fighting with him over something you didn't seem to think about now. you were just fuming in your seat because he had raised his voice at you in front of many people, "are you going to keep up this being a bitch act of yours?" he bites, you can feel the venom seeping through his voice.

you stayed silent, trying to send him the hint that you weren't going to talk to him any sooner. he hisses beside you before slamming his hand on the steering wheel, making you look at him with a flinch, "damn it!" "what the hell is wrong with you, toji!" "now you decide to talk to me."

"if you were just being so fucking easy back there, then maybe i wouldn't have yelled." the man beside you fills you in, trying to point out your mistakes from the fight.

"oh so now it's my fault that you have anger issues that you can not somehow get a hold of? you're a fucking assassin, toji. yet you act like you can't color inside the lines with a gun to your fucking head."

"what the fuck did you just say?" his voice grumbles, and just in time for a thunder to roar in the sky, light flashes in a second before the rain came down heavier. toji took a glance at you, his eyes were filled with anger and you can tell, you calmed yourself down. looking out from the window again you wrapped your own arms around your body to provide warmness, you couldn't handle it anymore. there was never a day where you don't find yourself arguing with the scarred man over and over again, you were tired, to an extent.

"you're a fucking jerk." you mumble, resting your head on the window as you feel your tears starting to build up. it hurts you, him being too comfortable yelling at you in front of a crowd, it shatters your heart into millions of pieces. you knew you were hard to love but... toji made you feel like there wasn't hope at all.

"I hate you." it came out like a whisper, your voice vulnerable and weak. toji's grip loosened, his eyes softening in an instant with his face muscle finally relaxing, but not in a good way. damn did those three words, eight letters, stab his heart a million times repeatingly, over and over again. he was hurting you, and now he realizes it, he has gone too far now, "y/n."his voice was gentle now, no sign of anger or irritation.

you didn't answer, you felt so weak now. you felt like you were going to burst into tears within a second, " 'm sorry." your boyfriend says, your heart warms up in an instant, it was unfair, he had this effect on you and you just can't ignore it, "whatever." you replied with a sob at the end of your sentence, you had been crying again... because of him.

toji didn't like seeing you like this so he swore in him, he would kill anyone that made you cry, and if he did make you holler again, he'll end his self instead.

Satoru. "This is crazy." you say in frustration, looking at your lover as if he has grown tw heads to make your eyes shine with horrid, "oh this is crazy? you're

crazy." the silver haired exclaims with his tone sharp and absolute, you were taken a back by his response, "oh wow, don't try to point this on me when you're the one who flirted with a girl." "it's like I can't even do anything in this relationship anymore, you have this fucking vision in your head that im so fucking wrong all the time."

"you're just making up excuses, satoru. it won't cover up the fact that you flirted with the girl." you pointed at him, your eyes glared at him with your voice slightly raising. smoke was basically coming out of satoru's ear, he was fuming, "you're insecure, that's what you are." "what did you just say?" "you make a big fuss whenever i talk to another girl, you're afraid ill le...

there was the sound of your palm hitting his right cheek, it echos through out the room with your eyes tearing up. who am i kidding, it already rolled down your cheeks, your eyes held betrayal. satoru, never in your life did he point out your insecurities in an argument.

"what happened to you. if that's what you think then I'm afraid we're better off by ourselves." you say calmly, your tears still can't help themselves from falling, "y/n." "no, you don't say those hurtful things and expect me to be okay."

"im sorry, i know i crossed the line." the silver haired exclaims with a saddened voice, the slap was like a slap from reality. truly the reason why he realized his mistake. "i would never do that to you." your voice cracked, you couldn't anymore, the burden rose up to your throat and it made hard for you to say something without finding it hard. you were crying now.

backing away from your boyfriend your back hits the wall and you slide down to the floor whilst trying to calm yourself down. and just like that you feel your boyfriends familiar scent crouch down to your level, grabbing your hands gently to replace his slender hands to wipe away your tears. "im sorry baby, im so... fuck, i hate seeing you like this."

Nanami. "im just trying to calmly apologize to you, i dont want to fight anymore." the blonde says, he brings his hand up to his mouth in a frustrated manner, you stood there, your arms crossed in front of your chest with your eyebrows furrowed. your face was bear but the outfit you were supposed to wear to your date with him was still on your body, "how is that going to help me, is it going to bring back the two hours i waited for you!" you exclaim, you were frustrated, the man forgot your date because he went to a party at work. and he didn't even tell you he was going, so it caused a misunderstanding, and you waited fir him like a fool.

"did you get hurt? i said i was sorry didn't i? can i go to bed now." he says in almost a monotone voice, you were offended by the way he reacted. it was almost like he didn't even care about your feelings. your eyes by now had widened, "so you're invalidating my feelings now? so what you said sorry?" "god your voice it's so..." "its so what." "...." "answer me!"

"fucking annoying! that's what it is, you yell, you yap do you ever get tired?" nanami finally loses his composure and his words were like daggers stabbing your heart. and if you listened closely, you can hear your heart breaking into pieces, and shattering beneath you. "you... you're the least man i have ever thought to say those words to me."

"wait." but it was too late, you had slammed the door in your shared room, nanami was left inside the cold atmosphere of the living room. he drops his self to the couch, placing his elbow on both his knees as he runs his finger through his blonde locks in frustration, he fucked up.

he needed to calm his self down before comforting you, in case he hurts you again.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

AI art has no anti-cooption immune system

TONIGHT (July 20), I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

One thing Myspace had going for it: it was exuberantly ugly. The decision to let users with no design training loose on a highly customizable user-interface led to a proliferation of Myspace pages that vibrated with personality.

The ugliness of Myspace wasn't just exciting in a kind of outsider/folk-art way (though it was that). Myspace's ugliness was an anti-cooption force-field, because corporate designers and art-directors would, by and large, rather break their fingers and gouge out their eyes than produce pages that looked like that.

In this regard, Myspace was the heir to successive generations of "design democratization" that gave amateur communities, especially countercultural ones, a space to operate in where authentic community members could be easily distinguished between parasitic commercializers.

The immediate predecessors to Myspace's ugliness-as-a-feature were the web, and desktop publishing. Between the img tag, imagemaps, the blink tag, animated GIFs, and the million ways that you could weird a page with tables and padding, the early web was positively bursting with individual personality. The early web balanced in an equilibrium between the plunder-friendliness of "view source" and the topsy-turvy design imperatives of web-based layout, which confounded both print designers (no fixed fonts! RGB colorspaces! dithering!) and even multimedia designers who'd cut their teeth on Hypercard and CD ROMs (no fixed layout!).

Before the web came desktop publishing, the million tractor-feed ransom notes combining Broderbund Print Shop fonts, joystick-edited pixel-art, and a cohort of enthusiasts ranging from punk zinesters to community newsletter publishers. As this work proliferated on coffee-shop counters and telephone poles, it was visibly, obviously distinct from the work produced by "real" designers – that is, designers who'd been a) trained and b) paid by a corporation to employ that training.

All of this matters, and not just for aesthetic reasons. Communities – especially countercultural ones – are where our society's creative ferment starts. Getting your start in the trenches of the counterculture wars is no proof against being co-opted later (indeed, many of the designers who cut their teeth desktop publishing weird zines went on to pull their hair and roll their eyes at the incredible fuggliness of the web). But without that zone of noncommercial, antiestablishment, communitarian low weirdness, design and culture would stagnate.

I started thinking about this 25 years ago, the first time I met William Gibson. I'd been assigned by the Globe and Mail to interview him for the launch of All Tomorrow's Parties:

https://craphound.com/nonfic/transcript.html

One of the questions I asked was about his famous aphorism, "The street finds its own use for things." Given how quickly each post-punk tendency had been absorbed by commercial culture, couldn't we say that "Madison Avenue finds its own use for the street"? His answer started me down a quarter-century of thinking and writing about this subject:

I worry about what we'll do in the future, [about the instantaneous co-opting of pop culture]. Where is our new stuff going to come from? What we're doing pop culturally is like burning the rain forest. The biodiversity of pop culture is really, really in danger. I didn't see it coming until a few years ago, but looking back it's very apparent.

I watch a sort of primitive form of the recommodification machine around my friends and myself in sixties, and it took about two years for this clumsy mechanism to get and try to sell us The Monkees.

In 1977, it took about eight months for a slightly faster more refined mechanism to put punk in the window of Holt Renfrew. It's gotten faster ever since. The scene in Seattle that Nirvana came from: as soon as it had a label, it was on the runways of Paris.

Ugliness, transgressiveness and shock all represent an incoherent, grasping attempt to keep the world out of your demimonde – not just normies and squares, but also and especially enthusiastic marketers who want to figure out how to sell stuff to you, and use you to sell stuff to normies and squares.

I think this is what drove a lot of people to 4chan (remember, before 4chan was famous for incubating neofascism, it was the birthplace of Anonymous): its shock culture, combined with a strong cultural norm of anonymity, made for a difficult-to-digest, thoroughly spiky morsel that resisted recommodification (for a while).

All of this brings me to AI art (or AI "art"). In his essay on the "eerieness" of AI art, Henry Farrell quotes Mark Fisher's "The Weird and the Eerie":

https://www.programmablemutter.com/p/large-language-models-are-uncanny

"Eeriness" here is defined as "when there is something present where there should be nothing, or is there is nothing present when there should be something." AI is eerie because it produces the seeming of intent, without any intender:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/13/spooky-action-at-a-close-up/#invisible-hand

When we contemplate "authentic" countercultural work – ransom-note DTP, the weird old web, seizure-inducing Myspace GIFs – it is arresting because the personality of the human entity responsible for it shines through. We might be able to recognize where that person ganked their source-viewed HTML or pixel-optimized GIF, but we can also make inferences about the emotional meaning of those choices. To see that work is to connect to a mind. That mind might not necessarily belong to someone you want to be friends with or ever meet in person, but it is unmistakably another person, and you can't help but learn something about yourself from the way that their work makes you feel.

This is why corporate work is so often called "soulless." The point of corporate art is to dress the artificial person of the corporation in the stolen skins of the humans it uses as its substrate. Corporations are potentially immortal, artificial colony organisms. They maintain the pretense of personality, but they have no mind, only action that is the crescendo of an orchestra of improvised instruments played by hundreds or thousands of employees and a handful of executives who are often working directly against one another:

https://locusmag.com/2022/03/cory-doctorow-vertically-challenged/

The corporation is – as Charlie Stross has it – the "slow AI" that is slowly converting our planet to the long-prophesied grey goo (or, more prosaically, wildfire ashes and boiled oceans). The real thing that is signified by CEOs' professed fears of runaway AI is runaway corporations. As Ted Chiang says, the experience of being nominally in charge of a corporation that refuses to do what you tell it to is the kind of thing that will give you nightmares about autonomous AI turning on its masters:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

The job of corporate designers is to find the signifiers of authenticity and dress up the corporate entity's robotic imperatives in this stolen flesh. Everything about AI is done in service to this goal: the chatbots that replace customer service reps are meant to both perfectly mimic a real, competent corporate representative while also hewing perfectly to corporate policy, without ever betraying the real human frailties that none of us can escape.

In the same way, the shillbots that pretend to be corporate superfans online are supposed to perfectly amplify the corporate message, the slow AI's conception of its own virtues, without injecting their own off-script, potentially cringey enthusiasms.

The Hollywood writers' strike was, at root, about the studio execs' dream that they could convert the "insights" of focus groups and audience research into a perfect script, without having to go through a phalanx of lippy screenwriters who insisted on explaining why they think your idea is stupid. "Hey, nerd, make me another ET, except make the hero a dog, and set it on Mars" is exactly how you prompt an AI:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

Corporate design's job is to produce the seeming of intention without any intender. The "personality" we're meant to sense when we encounter corporate design isn't the designer's, nor the art director's, nor even the CEO's. The "personality" is meant to be the slow AI's, but a corporation doesn't have a personality.

In his 2018 short story "Noon in the antilibrary," Karl Schroeder describes an "antilibrary" as an endlessly deep anaerobic lagoon of generative botshit:

https://www.technologyreview.com/2018/08/18/104097/noon-in-the-antilibrary/

The antilibrary is a generative AI system that can produce entire librarys’-worth of fake books with fake authors, fake citations by other fake experts with their own fake books and biographies and fake social media accounts, on-demand and instantly. It was speculation in 2018; it’s possible now. Creating an antilibrary is just a matter of investing in a sufficient number of graphics cards and electricity.

https://kschroeder.substack.com/p/after-the-internet

Reading Karl's reflections on the antilibrary crystallized something for me that I've been thinking about for a quarter-century, since I interviewed Gibson at the Penguin offices in north Toronto. It snapped something into place that I've trying to fit since encountering Henry's thoughts on the "eeriness" of AI work and the intent without an intender.

It made me realize why I dislike AI art so much, on a deep, aesthetic level. The point of an image generator is to buffer the intention of the prompter (which might be genuinely creative and bursting with personality) in layers of automated decision-making that flense the final product of any hint of the mind that caused its creation.

The most febrile, deeply weird and authentic prompts of the most excluded outsiders produce images that feel the same as the corporate AI illustrations that project the illusion of personality from the immortal, transhuman colony organism that is the limited liability corporation.

AI art is born coopted. Even the 4chan equivalent of AI – the deeply transgressive and immoral nonconsensual pornography – feels no different from the "official" AI porn churned out by "real" pornographers. "Shrimp Jesus" and other SEO-optimized Facebook slop is so uncanny because it is simultaneously "weird" ("that which does not belong") and yet it belongs in the same aesthetic bucket of the most anodyne Corporate Memphis ephemera:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corporate_Memphis

We call it "generative" but AI art can't generate the kind of turnover that aerates the aesthetic soil. An artform that can't be transgressive is sterile, stillborn, a dead end.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/20/ransom-note-force-field/#antilibraries

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

--

Jake (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1970s_fanzines_(21224199545).jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[rcmclachlan]

Heard this was the place to come if we wanted to know about pregnant Buck talking to the baby about the station tasks 🤔

@dadvans is a dirty enabler. He's also the one who came up with the idea of Buck calling the kid "probie" fyi

+

When Tommy walks into the 118, it doesn't feel quite like a homecoming, but when Bobby catches sight of him and smiles as though Tommy's presence isn't just welcome, but expected, something inside him relaxes as though it were twenty years ago and he's about to walk up the stairs to sit down for another incredible family dinner. 

"You guys get called to the thing with the Aon?" Grinning, he shakes Bobby's proffered hand as a matter of course, and part of him can't help but glow under Bobby's approving gaze.

It feels a bit like he's cheating on Captain Salazar, who took Tommy under her wing the second he got to Harbor and has given him free rein to do whatever he damn well pleases when he's in the air, but she doesn't cultivate the familial aura that cleaves to Bobby like a shadow. He likes and respects the hell out of her, but he probably wouldn't steal a helicopter and fly into a hurricane for her.

Some people were meant to be parents; Bobby Nash is definitely one of them. Tommy's working on it. 

Bobby gives a sporting but ineffective swipe at the soot smeared across his forehead with his wrist. "Normally falling space junk knocking over a skyscraper would take the cake, but since twenty million bees weren't released into the city, I'm calling it a ho-hum sort of day."

There's something severely wrong with them that the third-tallest building in LA breaking in half like a Kit Kat Bar doesn't rank above bees, but Tommy had to fly through that shit storm, so he can't disagree. The next person who says 'bee-nado' is getting thrown off the Santa Monica pier.

Speaking of. Tommy throws a quick glance at the three engines parked in their usual spots in the hopes of catching a glimpse of movement, and he's either losing his touch or never had it to begin with, because he's clocked immediately.

Bobby gives him a knowing look.

Caught, Tommy chuckles. "At the risk of sounding patronizing, how much did he overdo it?"

"Buck didn't mind being on winch and hose duty," Bobby says wryly. At Tommy's dubious look, he adds, "Okay, he did try to sneak into the thick of it once or twice, but he complained only a little when I threatened to hogtie him and chuck him in the back of the ambulance."

"Only a little? That's unlike him." Tommy can perfectly picture the mulish pout on Evan's ridiculous lips because someone forbade him from running into a building that was hanging at a 240° angle. 

"Hen may have also hinted that she'd break out The Powerpoint again if he didn't stop whining," Bobby admits. The capital letters are audible.

Tommy gives a low whistle. "That was diabolical of her."

He unfortunately hadn't been there when Hen presented You're Living For Two: A Comprehensive List of Things Buck Will Avoid for the Next 8 Months or Hen Will Have Him Committed (With A Foreword Written By Maddie Han) to Evan and the rest of the 118, but Eddie had texted Tommy throughout the whole thing like he was live tweeting a football game. At slide 40, which had five charts demonstrating the rates at which acute physical stress increased the risks of miscarriage and low birth weight, Eddie sent him a picture of Evan's cowed expression. Slide 43 ("Deli Meat A No-No"), on the other hand, got him a video of Evan in a heated argument with Hen, Howie, and Bobby about the merits of that. 

It ended when Bobby shouted, "It's not just you that you're risking, Buck! Every time you deliberately put yourself into harm's way, you're also risking my grandchild!" and Evan burst into tears and sobbed, "You can't say things like that when you're taking hot dogs away from me!" 

When Evan came home that day, he announced that mentioning The PowerPoint—and anything to do with Microsoft in general—was verboten for the next thousand years. Tommy couldn't help but quip, "It looks like you're upset about your family wanting you to carry this pregnancy safely to term. Would you like help? Yes, no, or cancel?" 

He was forced to sleep on the couch for three nights. He regrets nothing.

"Where is everyone?" The station is eerily quiet for a day spent trying to get ahead of a falling building.

"Burrito run. Buck volunteered to stay behind. He still getting carsick in traffic?"

"Let's just say we've been putting the emesis bags Howie gave us to very good use. Is he busy?" Tommy lifts the bag in his hand so Bobby can see the grinning face of the Colonel himself. "I come bearing gifts."

Bobby laughs the laugh of a man who knows firsthand that Evan's insatiable cravings for KFC's mashed potatoes are the only thing keeping the lights on at the location on W Pico Boulevard. He gestures past Tommy toward the engines. "Last I saw him, he was giving a class on proper hose maintenance."

"Appreciate it, Bobby," he says and starts heading in that direction.

"Tell him he'd better not be promoting bad coupling habits." Tommy turns around, wide-eyed, but Bobby's already got a hand up to forestall the laughter he must know is inevitable. Bobby's grimacing so hard it looks like he might severe his carotid. "I regretted it the second I said it. Do me a favor and phrase it a little better?"

"I make no promises." Snickering, Tommy turns back to the engines and swings the KFC bag cheerfully as he goes, making a mental note to mention this in the OG 118 group chat. That ought to give Howie enough ammo to last through Christmas. 

As he rounds Engine 3, he hears the susurrus of voices, which he expected, but as he gets closer he realizes it's just one voice, which he didn't. He comes to a stop right where the engine's rear strip on the storage compartment ends and ducks behind it a little to try and figure out exactly what he's looking at.

Bobby had said Evan was teaching and Tommy figured that meant he was holding court with the station's two newest recruits, but he's kneeling on the floor and carefully re-rolling a hose while he talks to an audience of precisely zero.

"Now this is called a straight roll," Evan says, voice modulated to be slow and easily understood. It's textbook perfect pacing. Tommy has no clue who it's for. Maybe he's filming a video? "I'm folding the male coupling over and then rolling it to the female coupling, which are unnecessarily gendered terms, but I wasn't in the room when they came up with the names, so."

Tommy's so distracted by how the muscles in Evan's arms strain against the sleeves of his uniform as he methodically rolls the hose that he almost misses what Evan says next.

"Now Daddy wants to do a Dutch roll, because it takes about five seconds and it's hilarious, but Grandpa Bobby would slaughter Daddy if he ever found out. Apparently letting the couplings drag on the ground is the eighth deadly sin." Evan rests back on his shins and pants a little, then pats the planetary curve of his belly with a grin. "Hope you're taking notes, probie. There will be a test."

There are two things in Tommy's life that he will never be able to forget, even if he had a full-frontal lobotomy; even if he wanted to:

The first is the way Evan's shoulders curled inwards as if bracing for a blow while he haltingly apologized about goading Tommy into fucking him after the condom ripped, about how Tommy didn't have to worry because Evan was relieving him of all responsibility, and that he didn't have any expectations because Tommy never asked for this and he hoped someday Tommy would forgive him for keeping what they'd accidentally created together. 

Tommy isn't a violent man, but sometimes he fantasizes about going back through Evan's life and beating the shit out of everyone who ever made him feel unwanted, or treated him like a consolation prize. Even in the early days of their relationship, when Tommy's respect for certain boundaries or simple acts of kindness would make Evan visibly recalibrate, Tommy had to stop himself from demanding a list of names. He has one now, and part of him would like nothing more than to start with Evan's parents and work his way down.

The second is the teary, disbelieving grin that broke across Evan's face like a sunrise when the sonographer pressed the ultrasound wand to his belly and the room filled with the jackrabbiting whup-whup-whup sound of their kid's heartbeat. Evan had looked over at him, laughed wetly at the struck-dumb expression Tommy knew he was sporting, and said, "Sounds like the Bell 206." 

When he reached out for Tommy, the fluorescent lights had glinted off the engagement band Tommy'd bought like a complete lunatic four months after Evan kissed him in the lobby of First Presbyterian. He'd kept it hidden in his toolbox until three months later, when Evan put on a brave face and tried to let him off the hook. 

But he didn't have far to go, because Tommy was already reaching back for him. The metal of the ring was warm where it pressed against his fingers. And if his heart was so full of love and wonder that he cried a little, no one commented on it. Well, Evan did when they got in Tommy's truck after their appointment and then went straight to KFC, but that was to be expected. He'd taken the ribbing like a champ. 

Watching Evan—now in the second week of his third trimester, the hem of his shirt fighting for its life where it stretches around his belly—earnestly teaching the kid still cooking inside him about proper hose care, Tommy knows he'll never forget this one either. He's pretty sure his life is going to be one unforgettable moment after another from here on out.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he walks out from behind the engine and gets a hand under Evan's elbow to help him get to his feet. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stand back and let Evan carry the hose over to its compartment and attach it to the main connection site himself. He's learned to grit his teeth and give help only when it's asked for. He has no desire to start up that argument again.

"So?" Tommy happily takes Evan into his arms while Evan happily takes the KFC bag out of his hand. "Is our kid going to graduate from the Academy or wash out completely?"

Evan grins at him. Tommy knows at least 45% of the love in his eyes is reserved for the mashed potatoes. "I'm calling it now: they're gonna be fire chief by the time they're twenty. Youngest in the entire country. What do you think, probie? You up for the challenge?"

Tommy places a hand gently on Evan's belly and immediately feels movement against his palm. Their kid hasn't given Evan a moment's peace since week 15; at any given moment, they're flipping around in there like they're doing zero-gravity training for a space mission. The familiar fluttering feeling makes his heart cramp. 

That's their kid in there. They made that.

"I think that's a yes," Tommy murmurs, pressing a kiss to Evan's temple, then hanging there for a moment, breathing him in. Breathing them in. "Love you."

"God, I love you so much, you don't even know," Evan says, cracking open a container with a pleased hum.

Tommy smiles dopily, then reality trickles in. "You're talking to the potatoes, aren't you?"

"Of course not," Evan lies through a mouthful of KFC's finest spuds.

[zelmyna-dragonheart]

I don't normally scream about other people's rottmnt au on here, but @somerandomdudelmao 's Cass Apocalypse Au is driving me up the wall, and I have words!!

Everyone who is reading the series knows it is currently in the process of Casey Jr. resurrecting his uncle/dad's.

Theory Time!

First off, let's go into why Casey can do this.

Yes, Cass has confirmed that the memory spell that was used was mixed with a time travel one. Thus, using one's memory's as a gateway to not only traverse time but dimensions.

However, Casey Jr. is able to see spirits when he does this but also remains physically in the present - which leads me to think that he is being astroprojected across time and space as a literal spirit. Hence why he can visit his memories and the past without altering the events on a physical level. As a spirit, Casey Jr. can see and engage with other spirits in existence at that time.

In the powers of spirit to spirit interaction, he is the only person alive who can literally pull other spirits through dimensions. With his body anchored in one time branch and his memories anchored in the other one, Casey Jr. Is the literal bridge for spirits to cross from one to the other.

No matter the condition of the spirit.

Theory #2

Cass has shown us F.Mikey communing with his ancestors when Donnie originally pasted on. It also was largely suspected the krangg could destroy ninpo and spirits.

With the Hamatos, spirits and ninpo are consister linked if not one. So, of course, when Casey Jr. travels back to his past in his time branch and is able to intact and unintentionally pull Donnie's disintegrating spirit into and out of time with him; Casey Jr. effectively saved Donnie's ninpo. Immediately after his recuse, Donnie admits that his NINPO is in shambles and that he is doing everything in his power to hold it together.

With this confirmation in mind, let's have a look at the conditions surrounding the other turtles' ninpos and spirits.

First off, Raph

Raph's spirit and ninpo were perfectly healed and intact with in the robot body Donnie created for him. The only thing is that Raph's 'body' could be turned activated or shut down. Like a Fullmetal Alchemist parallel, Raph's soul, spirit, and ninpo are housed within a metal container. In episode two or three, when Casey Jr. found the robot, Raph was reactivated after an emergency shutdown that lasted YEARS.

His ninpo and spirit woke up. Know that, shutting himself down again to allow his generator to be redirected as a power source would not kill Raph but rather put him to sleep. He would never die but remain suspended for all time, trapped in his metal shell until someone reactivated him.

This made Raph not only be the easiest but most accessible spirit for Casey Jr. to rescue. Raphs' spirit would have remained there, in perfect condition, for however long it took for Casey to get to him.

Now, let's look at Mikey.

This old mystic warrior was the most in tune and most powerfully adept with his abilities. Drained he may have been, Mikey said that opening a time gateway would use whatever he had left. His mystic powers and ninpo are linked. Opening the time gateway was a strain on his spirit, his ninpo. He was literally splintering apart as he opened the portal. In Mikey’s moment of death, he pushed the last of his ninpo in the portal. His ninpo burst like a firework.

At this point of this written theory, Mikey's has not been rescued.

This leads me to speculate the condition and difficulty of said rescue for one Casey Jr. Mikey's soul is untrained by Krangg's chemical warfare, so it is not in danger of disintegrating but nor is his soul bound to a metal shell, his spirit is actually free to reform and rejoin his Hamato clan.

This leaves Casey Jr. vary little time to connect with Mikey's spirit. There is the option that he will witness Mikey's ninpo shattering into a million pieces. However, he may also be witness to Mikey's ninpo, in stark contrast to Donnie rapidly decaying ninpo spirit, pull back together. In glorious younger self. All golden and whole.

All that training and usage of his ninpo would have given his spirit and ninpo the ability to reform faster than one that was infected with a ninpo-distorying illness. This moment, where Mikey spirit lingers before ascending or choosing to join with his ancestors, Casey would have to approach.

Then again... Mikey could also rather stick around and wait for Leo to join him.

Option 2 is that when Mikey explodes, Casey Jr. would have to act fast to catch the ninpo pieces upon explosion. I like option number one a lot better.

Regardless, Mikey could be a time sensitive rescue. Mikey is quite literally a wild card in this realm.

This brings us to Leo.

Can you see where I'm going with this?

It's not a secret that Casey has related to Younger Leo about how his future self was a shield for Mikey's ninpo.

F.Leo is shown to have sacrificed the use of his ninpo, or lack there of, to draw the Kranggs apparently one-time-use ability to lock or damage ninpo/magic on to himself to free Mikey to mystically blast Kranggs to oblivion. In contrast to Mikey's fully intact Hamato ninpo, Leo's utterly demolished ninpo is in full view for us to see .

How it got way we can only speculate - but it may have been sacrificed to help Mikey originally and never fully recovered. F.Leo even claimed once, after using his ninja skills of speed to confuse and irritate Krangg into using that ninpo destroying sonic wave they have, that he had no magic or anything for them to destroy.

So here is the thing. If a Hamato spirit and ninpo are one in the same... where does this leave Leo's spirit? His soul? His ninpo? It's all in pieces, broken, destroyed. Claimed to no longer exist. But the pieces remain.

They are pieces in a container. Like how Raph's spirit and ninpo were contained in metal, Leo's broken ones were still collected together within his living body.

So what happens when Leo's body is incinerated by that krangg's beam death? Like his twin, Leo’s spirit has been affected by the krangg and was unable to heal. There is no holding himself together here. He is most likely already like clear glass like pieces on the breeze or scattering in the wake of the after math. Destined to fade from existence.

He's the most likely to join his Hamato ancestors immediately, but without the ability to pull his ninpo together on his own, Leo would take time to reform with the Hamoto Clans help.

If Casey is to save Leo's ninpo and spirit at all, he would have to find away to collect the pieces of Leo's shattered ninpo once the beam hits.

Another problem, if Kraggs technology has the effect of destroying one's spirit, Casey's astroprojected spirit could be in danger if that death beam gets too close. He wouldn't be able to save his sensai and himself if that is in the way and active.

Saving Leonardo's shattered spirit and ninpo would not only be near impossible, but a definite risk to Casey Jr.'s own spirit. Astroprojecting his spirit still puts put's his life in clear physical danger of coming in contact with spirit damaging tech. Saving any remnant of his sensai's spirit and ninpo is going to acquire a plan. Or dumb luck.

That being said... Donnie is our evidence that even in pieces, Leo could be saved. Casey Jr. would have to get dangerously close to the death beam. That or stand among the lingering pieces of Leo's soul as they float for a moment in the aftermath. In any instance, all Casey Jr. would need to do is come in contact with any of these spirit partials, and they would all be sucked up in to him.

Unfortunately, I'm not sure Leo's broken spirit would be overly responsive to any of Casey' Jr. 's concerned shouts, if at all. But Casey would be able to feel him.

On returning to the present, we know from Donnie that krangg effects are left behind. This would result in two ways of Leo being resurrected.

1. On returning to the present, Casey would scramble for the cloning tube and instantly deposit the ninpo fragments. Leo would return with a new body shell for his broken bits. In this case, Leo would probably be comatose for a good long while until his pieces, now cleansed from anything krangg, reform and heal in safty.

2. Leo's ninpo is too weak to transfer into his clone and takes refuge in Casey instead until his cleansed ninpo pieces find a way to pull together. Maybe with help from Mikey?

Also, could Casey house two Hamato souls at once? Since Mikey and Leo practically died at the same time.

Because to wrap horribly long theory thread, I would almost expect a spirit Mikey to tell Casey's to grab Leo first then come back for him as Mikey's spirit is safe in the aftermather of the death beam. If Casey housed two Hamato spirits at once (headache just thinking about it), then Mikey mystic warrior aspect could collect and even help mend Leo's shattered ninpo.

But in conclusion, F. Leo is the most at risk and dangerous Hamato spirit to rescue. Logic states that there would be a possibility that F.Leo may never get rescued and be a lonely turtle spirit with his ancestors after. However, this is Cass's Au and Donnie of all people is defying logic. So I predict that some kind of Dumb Luck option from above will be Leo's saving grace. I just feel Casey Jr. is going to have a few singe marks on his soul to tell about when all this is said and done.

TL:DR - Raph was the easiest turtle to rescue as his spirit was stuck in a tin can. Mikey is a wild card in terms of spirit condition, but saveable on a time limit. Leo is the most riskiest and dangerous to save with a broken ninpo.

Casey Jr. and Donnie have no fear.

Live on future turtles!

[emphistic]

Casual

A/N: edited this while watching the debate 💀

<- series m.list

It’s crazy what you do for a friend. 

Sukuna was never one to let people in. He never was, and never would be. The result was always the same.

Sukuna hated smoking. He hated it with a fiery, burning passion; and he quit years ago. He didn’t smoke anymore, but, whenever he found himself missing you more than usual, at a quarter past one, he couldn’t help but spend eight dollars at the convenience store.

Being with you burned. In a good way. Cigarettes were nearly the same.

When you told him, last night, that you would be seeing other people, Sukuna didn’t know how to feel at first. You were free to date people who liked macaroni and cheese just as much as you did. His job was done, the curse was lifted. So why was he still unsatisfied? He helped a friend. That was all there was to it. Sukuna did what he was supposed to do, so why did he still need more? 

Was that selfish?

He’s been in the shadows your whole life. He’s watched you get boyfriends, break up, make new friends, lose friends; he’s seen it all. And he’s been with you, through it all. Sukuna couldn’t remember when he first started to like you, but when he did, he was already in far too deep. That’s why it hurt so, so much. Because you didn’t know how it felt to have someone rant and vent to you about their life and their crushes, whilst all you wanted was to do the same. 

You’ve cried on his shoulder, asking yourself, “Why won’t he just like me back?” And all Sukuna ever wanted to say was “Why won’t you just love me back?”

But, even after all of that, Sukuna couldn’t hate you. He could never. He loved you too much to let go. It was unbearable, he felt like bursting at the seams. But no, he couldn’t let go. If he told you how he felt, he already knew what your response would be.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” “Why did you never say anything earlier?”

Because Sukuna knew you were better off without him, and that you didn’t feel the same way. That’s why. It was obvious from the moment you proposed this fake relationship in order to rid yourself of the “curse”. And, if it was already clear you didn’t feel the same way, Sukuna knew this fake relationship would be the closest you two would ever get to being in love.

You put on a mask when you two started this whole arrangement. You played a character. It was an act. As for Sukuna? He only played out his vulnerabilities. This whole relationship was all for you. Everything Sukuna said and did, was for you. This . . . wasn’t any different. Yet, it was still one hell of a stab in the heart when you showed crystal clear interest in Naoki fucking Ito. It was inevitable, but still. . . And when you suggested setting him up with Eileen? God, Sukuna wanted to shove a gun down his throat. You were just too dense for your own good, huh? Well, that is what started this whole ordeal in the first place.

But, whaddya know, Sukuna took up your idea after all. Sukuna was hurt, he was confused, struggling to hold it together. Sukuna needed you, but you would always be as far and beautiful as the blazing hot sun ninety-three million miles away. Sukuna wanted a distraction. Besides, it couldn’t be so harmless if it was the same thing you were doing, right? Like you said, Natural Immunity, was it? People combat illnesses by injecting it into themselves. Maybe copying what you did with Naoki would make the burn hurt less.

You told Naoki and Eileen that you and Sukuna had broken up, simply because you two had lost interest in the relationship. Naoki, of course, immediately jumped at his chance, and asked you out on a date. Because you had been waiting for this moment your whole life, you obviously agreed. And from there, you and Naoki hit it off. Or so Sukuna thought. . .

But, anyhow, Sukuna tried to do the same. He and Eileen gradually started drifting closer and closer together. Yeah, he still found her occasionally annoying, but hey, he had been dealing with Yuuji and you for twenty-four years. Surely he could handle a minor pest like Eileen Mifune.

The two of them exchanged numbers, and every now and then, Sukuna found himself being on call or texting with Eileen, talking about nothing in particular. It always made him feel weird and strange inside, his stomach often hurt afterwards and he knew it wasn’t just because of a stomachache. It wouldn’t make any sense; Sukuna paid attention to his diet like no other. Was that what it felt like to have butterflies? Did you ever feel that way when you talked to him? Sukuna knew not.

You and Naoki started going out more frequently. You two talked till the sun went down, and while it should have been fun and enjoyable, you realized you always wanted nothing more than . . . to sleep. You wanted to get back into your bed, pull the covers over yourself, and escape the light of day.

Being selfish was an unfamiliar concept to you. For years, you have always wanted to be able to make mac n’ cheese with someone you loved. Truly loved. And, yet, when you and Naoki happened to do just that, you felt . . . nothing. This wasn’t what you wanted. You needed more. Was this . . . love?

Sukuna was confused. Growing up, he never really knew what love was. Fortunately, he felt familial love, but romantic love was just . . . different. Yeah, he had his fair share of girlfriends, but he never felt an emotion towards them quite as strong as the one he always felt when he was around you.

Sukuna studied the way you talked and smiled and laughed with Naoki. He needed an example to follow, if he was going to be able to show love towards someone else. But, in the end, he was only copying another imitation. A false version of his ideals.

Everything was so different. The way you interacted with Naoki, the slightly dimmed light in your eyes that was only noticeable to Sukuna, the atypical sound of your voice. It confused Sukuna, severely. You had him thinking two plus two equaled five, and that a lie plus another lie was completely fine. Did you even know Sukuna lied awake at night thinking of a girl he had no chance with? Fuck, love could be embarrassing as hell sometimes.

Listening to heavy metal. Standing still under spraying, cold, shower water. Screaming in empty parking lots. Texting with Eileen. Sukuna tried to cope, he really did, but it only backfired at him in the end. As the days passed by, you two found yourselves only hurting each other more, and more. It was inevitable, because the both of you were just too close. 

Stuck by the glue, and cursed by Eros; you and Sukuna may not have been the world’s idea of lovers, but you two were friends, and that was just as bad.

“What have you been up to lately?” you asked, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. It was a Saturday afternoon, you had nothing important to do, and you always failed to see the harm in innocently inviting a friend over.

“Ah, I’ve been—”

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzzt!

The both of you simply stared as the screen of your phone lit up to reveal Naoki’s contact name. It was just plain “naoki: eileen’s cousin”. Damnit, you always forgot to change that; you mentally facepalmed.

“. . .Forget it. You should get that.” Sukuna scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes elsewhere.

You hesitated. For some reason, you almost didn’t want to pick up the phone. But you did. Of course you did.

“Naoki, hi! What’s up?” You put on your best smile as you spoke.

“Hey, I was wondering if we could hang out tomorrow?”

“It’s kind of late to be asking this,” you laughed, “don’t you think so? But, yeah, sure. I’ll text you later for more details. I think I’m gonna go—”

“Alright, that’s a good idea. Ciao; night.”

There was a beep after the phone call ended, and you quickly turned your phone on Do Not Disturb, which is what you should’ve done a lot earlier.

The sound of Sukuna’s voice was what brought you back. “You seem to be talking to Naoki a lot more often, nowadays.”

You frowned, what was that supposed to mean? “I could say the same about you and Eileen. You two seem really buddy-buddy together, huh? Did you finally listen to my idea after all?”

“It’s whatever.”

Tension was remarkably high. The two of you sat in awkward and total silence. You were both seated on opposite ends of the couch, nursing individual glasses of Sex on the Beach, whilst some random TV show played as background noise. You invited Sukuna over to talk; you always loved hearing his voice. But . . . it seemed like there wasn’t much talking being done.

“So,” you began, “does that mean you’re interested in Eileen? I could give you some pointers if you are. Like, what her favorite flowers are, or what her favorite movie is—it’s Interstellar, by the way. But, y’know, stuff like that.”

Sukuna sighed, “No, thanks. I’m honestly just a little confused right now. I’m not sure if a girl is what I need.”

“Oh . . . yeah, totally! I get that,” you nodded. “It’s always good to solely focus on yourself instead of others. That way, you can figure out what you really want in life. And, maybe, being you is all you need. Not a girlfriend or a boyfriend, or any of that, to be specific. Y’know?”

“Uh huh.” Sukuna’s voice sounded distant, despite being only a few feet away.

And, to be completely honest, you were currently at war with yourself. For as long as you could remember, you’ve always wanted to be able to make macaroni and cheese with someone you really loved. And even though you had accomplished that—with Naoki, a few days ago—you couldn’t help the empty feeling you had inside. It was so, so strange. Like nothing you had felt before. You got what you wanted, so why did you still need more?

Was that selfish?

Whenever you talked with Naoki, it drained you more than anything. Was this the love you had dreamed about as a little girl? Was Naoki Ito really who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with? Was he the one who would fulfill your wishes, and make macaroni and cheese with you? Was he for the better?

You’ve always had a wide imagination since birth. And yet, you couldn’t imagine yourself living a lie. It was just . . . absurd, to say the least.

“Say, we haven’t had anything to eat, yet. Are you hungry?” you tried asking. For, you would hate to have to sit in silence for the rest of the evening.

“I dunno. Are you?”

“I mean, now that you mention, I guess I am.”

“Let me guess. You want macaroni and cheese? I can make it for you pretty quickly. As thanks, for having such a good collection of drinks.” Sukuna gestured to his now empty glass. 

Your eyes lit up, a smile forming on your lips. “Oh, that’s okay. We can—We should make it together! It’ll be fun, don’t worry. I know I’m not the best cook, but I can make a mean mac n’ cheese. And if we pair up, we could probably make the best mac n’ cheese to ever walk the Earth.”

“No mac n’ cheese walks the Earth, dumbass.” Despite his comment, Sukuna picked up his glass and walked into the kitchen. You soon followed suit, also grabbing your glass to leave in the sink.

“So, you’re the Head Chef here.” You turned to face Sukuna with an “eager-to-work face” and your hands on your hips. “What should I do?”

Sukuna laughed. You hadn’t heard him laugh in a long time. You honestly missed that carefree smile of his.

“You make me feel like I’m fuckin’ Gordon Ramsay or some shit. But, okay. You can handle the macaroni; I trust you with that. As for me, I’ll take care of the roux. Believe it or not, too much cheese can be a thing.”

“Seriously? I’ve never heard of that.”

“Trust me. I have experience.”

While you two worked in the kitchen, Sukuna told you a story that happened just a few years ago.

It was Thanksgiving, and the whole Itadori family were all assigned roles for what to bring to the dinner. Sukuna was in charge of the turkey, like always, and his . . . actually, he didn’t even know who Choso was in regards to the family. But for some reason, he was always invited to their family reunions and holiday dinners, so whatever. 

Anyway, Choso was assigned the mashed potatoes and gravy. His cousin was bringing the pumpkin pie, while Yuuji was assigned the infamous macaroni and cheese. As you can probably tell, the theme of the dinner party was American. Just for funzies.

Little did Yuuji know, Choso was actually lactose intolerant. And guess what, Choso didn’t even know he was lactose intolerant. Now, some people who are lactose intolerant, can handle some bits of cheese here and there. But unfortunately, Choso is not one of those people. And it certainly did not help that Yuuji absolutely went above and beyond with how much cheese and cheddar he used to make the macaroni and cheese.

It was a disaster. But long lasting memories were made, and a couple polaroids were taken (of miserable faces). Long story short, Yuuji is banned from ever making macaroni and cheese again. And Choso is forever hesitant about attending the annual Thanksgiving dinner.

“That’s hilarious, Sukuna. I feel kind of bad for Choso, though, the poor guy must’ve been so embarrassed. I can’t even begin to imagine how he felt.”

“Eh, he’s over it now. I think. He’s just a little more cautious.”

“I bet he went and took a bunch of tests to see all the things he was allergic to, afterwards.”

“You’re not wrong. He actually did do just that,” Sukuna laughed, putting the finished macaroni onto two plates for the both of you.

“It smells delicious,” you moaned. You two decided to just eat from your plates on the counter. Your dining table was full with grocery bags you had yet to unload.

“Thanks to me, of course.” Sukuna gave you a shit-eating grin. He could be so cocky, sometimes. It was in his character.

“Whatever, look at this.” You picked up a single piece of macaroni, and shoved it in Sukuna’s face. You moved it as if to pretend the macaroni was dancing.

Sukuna grimaced. “What the hell are you doing with that?”

“I am just a little dancing piece of macaroni. I am not spaghetti, or penne, or rigatoni. I am not lasagna or a fat slab of bologna. I’mmm macaroni.”

“The fuck are you singing a song from Sausage Party for?”

“So you did watch it, after all! You liar!”

“Pfft.” Sukuna rolled his eyes, holding up his hands in defense. “Neither you nor Yuuji would stop pestering me about it; I had to.”

You set the macaroni back on your plate, and cleaned your hands with a nearby napkin. “Sure, sure. Just admit it, I have the best movie recommendations.”

“When Hell freezes over.”

“You are such a grump. I hope you know that.”

“I don’t.” Sukuna quipped.

You playfully glared at Sukuna, pressing your face impossibly closer to his, until you couldn’t draw a line between where your breath ended, and where his started.

“You can be so mean, sometimes. Y’know that, right?”

“Yeah, well, something tells me you love that about me.”

As the hours flew by, and the day turned from afternoon to evening, it was soon well past eight. You had none of the lights turned on, and your whole apartment was completely drowned in darkness. You didn’t know who leaned in first, but you knew you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Your lips pressed against Sukuna’s in a chaste kiss, before you pulled away after a mere second, a stupid look on your face as you giggled. “You taste like mac n’ cheese.”

Sukuna grumbled, “Well, no shit, Sherlock,” before grabbing you by the back of your head, bringing you both into another kiss. This time a little less PG-13. His lips were cold, cracked, and his hands were frigid to the touch. You pressed yourselves closer together, and curved your body into his as you looped your arms around his neck. You wanted to warm him up, and make him feel as fuzzy inside as he made you feel. 

It felt so right. Nothing like how you felt with Naoki. But maybe that was the difference between a friend and lover; and that made you feel more guilty than anything.

You wanted to grab Sukuna’s hands, and hold them in your own. You wanted to kiss along the ink of his tattoos. You wanted him to be warm, and to feel all fuzzy inside. But you knew he was probably better off getting that feeling from someone other than you. It didn’t make sense.

Sukuna kissed you like it was the end of the world, like he wanted to savor every last second with you. And maybe you were flattering yourself when you thought that, but, you couldn’t help but wish Sukuna felt that way. You really, really wanted him to feel that way. To not want those kisses to end. To want to be the last person giving those types of kisses.

Why did you want that?

“Sukuna,” you whispered, between kisses, clearly out of breath, “it’s late.”

Closing your eyes, you were the first one to pull away. Your voice was so soft, just above inaudible, and yet, Sukuna still heard you. He always did.

“Are you sleepy?” he asked, voice equally as quiet.

“No.”

Sukuna kissed your eyelid, so gently, like he thought you could disappear at any given moment. And, had your eyes been open, you would’ve noticed the melancholic look on his face. The furrow of his brows. The softness of his eyes. He looked like a child about to cry after getting scolded for doing wrong. God, he was a grown man, and yet, he had never felt so little.

“Are you tired?”

You opened your eyes, glancing up at Sukuna, “If I asked you to stay the night, . . would you?”

“Is that what you want?”

“. . .” You might’ve been only half-awake, and also rather tipsy, but you still fully registered Sukuna’s words. In the end, it was you who chose not to answer, because you simply couldn’t.

Sukuna swallowed the lump in his throat, avoiding your eye contact. “I would stay.”

“In that case, I am tired.”

“. . .That would make the two of us.”

That night, as Sukuna laid awake in your bed, with his arms around you, and his breathing even, he didn’t get a wink of sleep. How could he, when you broke his heart without even knowing you were responsible for it in the first place? Sukuna wasn’t confused by what was said, he was confused by what was unsaid. It wasn’t easy when his heart wanted you whilst his brain said “no”.

It’s tough saying “I love you” to someone who doesn’t even know what those words mean.

-

Naoki came over to your apartment the next day, just like he said he would. You two lounged around, gossiped about annoying co-workers and bosses, sipped on lemonade, and overall, were having a grand ol’ time. Sukuna wasn’t at the apartment, he was out doing something you didn’t bother asking about.

One thing led to another, and all of a sudden, you and Naoki were talking about feelings. It all happened so fast, you didn’t even notice that Naoki had asked you to be his girlfriend until you found yourself drifting to the thought of Sukuna. Of course, even when someone’s asking you to get into a relationship with them, you obviously have to go thinking about another man. Of course.

But you bit your tongue, and reminded yourself that Sukuna was probably better off without you. You were just too confused, and too scared. You felt obligated to say “yes” to Naoki, and so you did.

What you didn’t expect was for Naoki to place a chaste kiss on your lips right afterwards. Like, immediately afterwards. You were too stunned to kiss back, not like you would’ve anyway. 

You blinked, once, twice, thrice, before you could form an answer. “I—Don’t you think it’s a bit early for that kind of thing?”

“Oh, ah, sorry. I got a bit excited.” Naoki pulled away from you with an apologetic look on his reddening face.

After being with Sukuna, it became a sort of reflex or an instinct to you; so you didn’t even notice that you had wiped your mouth after Naoki kissed you until he pointed it out himself, a clearly embarrassed expression on his face.

“Was it that bad of a mistake? That you had to wipe it off?” Naoki tried to joke, but he cringed at himself afterwards.

“Oh, uhm. . . Sorry, old habits die hard, huh?” You laughed nervously, trying to save the mood.

“. . .Anyways, I’m really glad it’s you that I’ve gotten now.” Naoki smiled. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful—ever since that night at the bar—but up close is a whole ‘nother story.”

“O-oh! Thank you, that’s . . . really nice of you to say,” you smiled.

Sukuna was never a man of words. He never told you how good you looked or dressed. Rather, he showed you. It was obvious from the way his stare always seemed to linger at your lips, the way he tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear to get a better look at your face, the way he leaned closer to your face when in conversation. Sukuna stopped doing a lot of those things when Naoki came along, and you longed for them ever since.

“No problem! I’m sure you hear it pretty often, anyways—”

Naoki was cut off by the abrupt sound of the door being unlocked, opened, and then shut. Were you expecting someone else today? You swore you only invited Naoki over. The both of you were quick to turn your heads and face the direction of the door, where you found Sukuna standing. Thing is . . . he wasn’t alone.

Your eyes flickered up to meet Eileen’s, who was dressed in a very “date-like” outfit. Mere eye contact, and you felt your whole world crash down. Was Sukuna actually interested in Eileen? You knew that you had played Cupid for them the last few days, but you were mainly joking, since you knew Eileen was far from Sukuna’s type. You were a clear hypocrite; it hurt you to see he had actually taken your suggestion.

Eileen—opposite from you—didn’t look at all surprised by the sight of you and Naoki. She smiled at you, but you didn’t feel any authenticity in it. Still smiling, Eileen placed her hand on Sukuna’s arm, and broke eye contact with you to look at him with a warm expression on her face. It made you feel cold, and sick to the stomach.

You had said, a multitude of times, that Sukuna was better off without you. But was Eileen really the solution for that?

“Sukuna. . . Why—What are you doing here?”

The look on his face was so, so distant. You had never seen him looking at you with such lack of emotion. It almost sent shivers down your spine. “Don’t be silly. This is basically my second home. And, besides, I thought you wanted us four to all have a double date. Didn’t you?”

Fuck, that was going to come back and bite you in the ass one day or another, you thought to yourself.

“Oh . . . right. But, we probably should’ve, like, planned this out, and talked about it. Not, like, just come barging into my apartment on a random Sunday, you know?” you joked.

“It doesn’t look like you’re busy right now,” Sukuna argued.

Naoki’s eyes darted between you and Sukuna. He sensed some tension in the air, and decided to do something about it. “Well, I, for one, think it’s a great idea. For us to all have a double date.”

Because it only happened a few minutes ago, you had no chance of telling Sukuna about your new relationship. But, seeing the emotionless expression on his face, it looked like Sukuna had already put two and two together and figured everything out himself.

“Uhm. . . Okay, sure. We can have a . . ,” you almost couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, “. . . a double date.”

Sukuna crossed his arms over his chest (and all you could notice was the way his muscles flexed in the tight shirt he wore), and in the process, knocked Eileen’s hand off his arm. “Movie?” he suggested.

“Are you into science fiction, by any chance?” Naoki asked Sukuna, passing him the remote as the pink-haired man sat down on the couch, coincidentally, right by you.

“Of course. We should watch Interstellar.”

“‘Kuna, oh, my God!” Eileen exclaimed, forcing room for herself beside Sukuna. “That’s my favorite movie!”

“Oh, really? I think it’s pretty entertaining,” Sukuna replied.

Bullshit. Sukuna hated sci-fi movies more than any other genre. He loved pointing out inaccuracies and other things of the sort. He wouldn’t enjoy Interstellar, never mind watching it, unless. . . You frowned, remembering how you had told Sukuna about Eileen’s favorite movie. Maybe he really was interested in Eileen after all, and wanted to have something in common with her.

You felt uneasy just by the possibility of that idea. But you knew full well you shouldn’t have. You were the one who called this arranged relationship fake in the first place, so why did you want it to be more than that? To be real?

It wasn’t fair.

Day after day, you had slowly begun to realize that maybe you weren’t as in love with Naoki as you had thought. Hell, you weren’t in love with him at all. He liked macaroni and cheese, you liked macaroni and cheese, but that was about it. He was nice, but he wasn’t even close to your type.

You wanted someone who used actions more than words. You wanted someone with charisma, and the ability to be naturally funny. You wanted someone who knew their way around a kitchen. You wanted someone who could teach you how to ice skate. You wanted someone to care about you and your health. You wanted Sukuna.

Fuck. You wanted Sukuna so bad. So bad. It took you years to realize, months to say it yourself, and an infinite amount of days to act upon it. You wanted Sukuna; you needed Sukuna. But it wasn’t right. And it sure as hell wasn’t just.

There, you said it. You said it all. You had ruined everything.

You wanted Sukuna most when you couldn’t have him. You were right, as much as you hated to admit it. Sukuna was better off without you.

Guilt had already completely overtaken your mind and soul when you suddenly realized that you had zoned out in the middle of everyone figuring out which movie to watch.

“Girl, hello?” asked Eileen, waving a hand in front of your face. “Earth to—”

“Sorry. I—I was just . . . thinking about something. Anyway, what movie did you guys pick?”

“White Chicks,” Naoki answered. “We decided since we’ve all seen Interstellar, we should just watch something else.”

You nodded. “Alright, then. I’ll go make the popcorn.”

As you stood up to walk into the kitchen, you noticed a pair of footsteps behind you. Turning around, your eyes met Sukuna’s; his face expressionless, save for the slight furrow of his brows.

“I can trust you with macaroni,” Sukuna began, “but I cannot trust you making popcorn without blowing up this whole city.”

“Seriously?” you laughed, but you didn’t stop him.

The both of you stood in the kitchen, as still as statues, quiet as mice, and watched as the seconds ticked down on the microwave in big, red numbers. You spent two minutes thinking about all the time you had ever spent with Sukuna, and the last minute thinking about Naoki. As the seconds passed, you found your body gradually leaning closer and closer to Sukuna, until the two of you were shoulder to shoulder.

When you looked at Sukuna, with forty seconds left on the microwave, it almost seemed like he turned to look at you simultaneously. His eyes were empty, and the light in them was faint. They looked more brown than they did red, which was a rare occurrence for every blue moon.

“I’ve missed you,” you blurted out, before you could realize what you were saying.

“You saw me yesterday.”

“That’s . . . twenty-four hours too long.”

Sukuna leaned down, till your noses were almost touching, and his breath fanned your face. His gaze drifted from your eyes, to the curve of your nose, to your cheekbones, and then, to your lips.

“Huh, funny. I feel the same way.”

Last time, you had not an idea who leaned in first. But this time, it was you. And you knew, for sure, because you wanted to. You needed to. And so you did. It was simple as that.

You had Sukuna’s face cupped in your hands, and your lips pressed against his in a frenzied kiss that made your knees go weak. Sukuna quickly kissed back with just as much enthusiasm, if not more, and held you by the back of your head. The both of you, controlled by no bounds and already having forgotten about the cousins in the living room, kissed with abandon.

Sukuna’s hands were cold, and rough, but they were gentle and gingerly when tangling themselves within your hair. It was like a routine, for Sukuna to twirl strands of your hair between his fingers. He usually did it subconsciously.

Your heart felt heavy, and you knew, with all your mind, that what you were doing was wrong. But . . . it felt so right that you didn’t know how to feel. You were weighed down by your conscience and your guilt, but even then, your heart kept calling out for a man who you knew you couldn’t have.

“Mmm,” you sighed, pulling away from Sukuna with a regretful look on your face. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck are you sorry for?” Sukuna teased, but he straightened up when he noticed the frown clear as day on your face.

“It’s. . . It wasn’t supposed to go this far,” you began, casting your eyes downward. “This was supposed to be casual, a fake relationship. I—I didn’t plan for it to be so realistic. And, besides, we’re both seeing other people, anyway. This . . . isn’t right, Sukuna.”

You hated to admit it, but you knew it was true.

For a second, Sukuna looked dumbfounded, an expression you rarely saw on him. But then his confusion turned to melancholy, and then to exasperation. “Casual? Casual! Was it just casual when we kissed all those other times? When we kissed in the dark, hidden away from the world and everyone else? Was it just casual when we made macaroni and cheese together? Like you’ve always dreamed of? You can try all you fucking want to pretend none of that shit happened. But guess what? They still did. And, you know—fuck. Forget it. This whole relationship has been far from casual.”

Your mouth opened and closed, but for a few moments, no sound came out. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” (You did, you really did have a great idea of what he was talking about, but couldn’t indulge it.)

You were hurt, more hurt than you had ever felt in your whole life. It was an awful, absurd idea, but you really needed Sukuna to understand that what you were trying to do was incredibly necessary. Sukuna should have never agreed to your stupid “curse removal idea” and you should have never brought it up.

But you did, and now everything was ruined. Sukuna was focused on you, and you were focused on him. At first, you didn’t want to believe what you felt about Sukuna, but you could only push those thoughts away for so long. You’ve made your bed, and must lie in it. 

All of a sudden, you’re in a relationship with Naoki, while having feelings and thoughts and desires about another man whom you truly, truly loved. Your world was completely messed up, flipped upside down. You needed time to yourself, to become less confused. Being in this relationship with Sukuna for any longer would just be digging a deeper grave for yourself.

“Of course you don’t.”

“. . .Excuse me?”

“Do you seriously think I would date someone I had zero feelings for?” Sukuna pressed.

“Remind me how this is relevant.”

“How can you be this fucking dense? Oh, right, because you have no idea what it means to want someone you can’t have.” Sukuna poked a finger to your chest to emphasize the word “you”.

“Come again?”

“You have no idea what it feels like to be in love with someone since childhood and have them be completely oblivious to your feelings. I’ve watched you love and hate, smile and cry, and yet, you’ve never even so much as glanced my way.” Sukuna sighed, pinching the space between his brows. “You’re focused on anything but me.”

You were expecting it, but you were still surprised to hear it with your own ears. You had truly fucked up. “I—you—why didn’t you tell me how you felt before—?”

“Does it matter? You wouldn’t have felt the same way; I know. But whatever, you’re right. It was wrong for me to kiss you. You finally found someone who loves macaroni and cheese. Congratulations. There’s no reason for this fake relationship to continue. It’s done, we’re done.” Sukuna gave you one last look from over his shoulder, before turning around and walking out of the kitchen.

He couldn’t possibly be serious. You could not believe that Sukuna was really throwing away your friendship because of this. Of course, he had good reasons, and you would probably do the same if you were in his shoes, but. . .

“Sukuna. . .” you whispered, a last attempt at fixing things. You needed to explain, because right now, you sounded like the biggest dick in the world. But, Sukuna probably didn’t want to see your face ever again, and how can you possibly explain yourself to someone who didn’t want to hear an explanation?

As if by a miracle of God, Sukuna stopped in his tracks at the sound of his name, and turned around to face you with an indifferent expression painted across his features. “I only have one last question for you. Did you finally get what you wanted?”

There is a current heatwave where I live. And yet, I feel so cold without your touch.

[theealbatross]

kiss me (s.s.)

Plot | You fought, kissed, and made up. But it could never be that easy.

or, Sebastian took two steps forward and three steps back.

Tags | insecurities, social pressures, obsessive tendencies, slytherin!reader, dark!seb and reader if you squint, but not really, underage drinking (theyre all 16-18 in this), they're just crazy about each other and can't tell anyone, kissing (duh) nothing too PG, happy ending?, read 4k words and figure it out, if the end made you scream say 'aye'

[ 6th Year ]

“Spin that fucking bottle!”

If you had known what absolute monstrosity you would create when you introduced muggle sleepover games to your housemates you would’ve gone to bed early.

But now, you were surrounded by drunk, nosy, Slytherins that were dead-set on exposing each other’s most embarrassing secrets. No one was safe.

“Imelda!” Everyone cheered, Grace quickly hooked her arms around the other girl’s neck when she tried to escape.

The party had long since been over, most of the students from other houses had already retired to their own rooms but those who had friends in Slytherin (like Poppy and Natty) or were too drunk to journey back to the spiraling staircases of their houses safely (like Everett and Samantha) decided to sober up for a while in the Quidditch Grand Champion’s common room.

“Are you actually as mean as you pretend to be or do you just not know how to make friends,” Natty slurred, pointing and wagging a finger at her.

If she was in a better constitution, she would’ve been able to brush off that accusation easily and with confidence but a dozen of improved (thanks Garreth) Firewhiskey shots later and the ever-guarded Imelda flushed in embarrassment to the surprise of everyone. The small circle burst out laughing, Imelda pushed Grace away in annoyance.

“It’s okay, ‘melda. We love you as you are!” Poppy was definitely still hammered.

“Next, next, next!”

The bottle spun and spun but your eyes were at the boy who had just returned from tucking Ominis in their shared dorm. You smiled up at him as he sat in the reserved space available just for him right beside you. “Omi?” you mouthed.

He squeezed your hands, silently letting you know your lightweight friend was now safely tucked in his own bed and ready to welcome the worst hangover he had ever known tomorrow.

“Well, well, well! Our brilliant, beloved, beater!”

It was when you turned your eyes back down on the ground that you saw that the mouth of the bottle was now undoubtedly pointed at Sebastian.

“Mate, I just got here!”

The crowd booed, Sebastian receiving light punches and playful jeers. “It’s the rules, Sallow!”

Everyone looked at you expectantly, the false inventor of such guidelines. You smirked, shrugging, “Rules are rules.”

Sebastian gaped at the betrayal. He gave you a look that lets you know he’ll get you back for this, even secretly poking your waist sharply. You didn’t like the way your housemate’s eyes glinted at the small interaction. Oh no.

“Alright, Alright,” Garreth shushed the crowd with two outstretched hands. “I have the million galleon question! I’m sure everyone will praise my genius for it!”

“Get on with it already!”

The Gryffindor threw a drunken glare at the voice from the back of the common room. “Now, I’m sure our dear Sebastian, despite receiving many letters of admiration and flutters of pretty lashes –”

“Gross,” Imelda grumbled.

“—has yet to officially court someone!” Garreth announced, arms stretched wide like he was a ringmaster about to start his greatest show. Everyone oo-ed and ahh-ed and cheered.

You didn’t like where this was going.

Sebastian, for all the eyes that were on him, managed to maintain the small smile on his cocky face.

It was true. You were not blind to the … physical developments he had undergone the last two years nor to the attention it had garnered him. The boy you had sneaked around Hogwarts with in your fifth year had disappeared and was replaced by a man. An unfairly tall, tanned, attractive man. You damn near walked past him again if he had not pulled you to his side on your first day during your 6th year.

You weren’t ignorant of it, nor were you dumb enough to deny your attraction to your friend.

But you are a lady. And his friend.

His most trusted, beloved friend (his words not yours).

You’d rather not risk your lifelong connection if he won’t. You know how to read between the lines as blurry as it had become. He’s lost too much and you refuse to become another scar in his soul. The both of you have had enough of that to last you till the next lifetime.

“So, my question is,” your eyes widened when you felt two hands on each of your shoulders, in your deep reverie you have failed to notice Garreth sneaking behind your back or that all conniving eyes and raised eyebrows were now on you.

Sebastian smiled.

“Kiss, Marry, Kill.”

[ 7th Year ]

It was by incredible luck that your 7th year of Hogwarts called for the Triwizard tournaments to be held in Hogwarts.

You were prepared to enjoy the event in relative peace. Happy that for once you would be the spectator of all the action instead of being the one in the middle of it.

Life just can’t make it that easy for you.

You did not even realize that Sebastian of all people had thrown his name in as consideration until he had been called and your dreams of a quiet last year in Hogwarts were shot to the depths of hell. It was the first time in a while that you felt true fear, the type that froze all your blood solid.

The fight that followed in the Undercroft was explosive.

“How could you be so reckless, Sebastian?! People die in these games! Why would you do this?!”

Just the thought of it makes your stomach sink. Sebastian will be front and center of this bloody battle of pride that is broadcasted to the entire wizarding world. It was different when it was the two of you jumping through all types of danger – this time you won’t be able to help him. He will be alone.

Yet, when you had expected a valid explanation and a plan out of all this madness he instead looked at you with such anger and vitriol that you physically flinched.

“Because I am sick of being just your friend!” Even Ominis pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on. Foreseeing a tragedy about to uncontrollably unroll. “I’m constantly surrounded by you two! Ominis Gaunt, the scion of the purest bloodline in the wizarding world, the Heir of Slytherin who could do no wrong! How brilliant!”

He cackled a laugh, he looked like a man at the brink of insanity. How long had he been holding on to these thoughts?

“And you!”

“Sebastian enough –” Ominis tried to cut through his mania but he wasn’t having any of it. Once the words were out, there was no taking them back in. He was cursed – he will have to see it through.

“Famed Hero of Hogwarts,” each word was dripped in poison, the insecurities bubbling inside him caused him to lash out at anyone and everyone who dared question his decision. How could they understand? How would they understand a nobody? “Do you know how tired I am of being in your shadow?”

He felt the sting before he heard it, the slap drowned the Undercroft in silence. Then, the weight of his grave words sunk in. The green haze in his head cleared just to see the boiling tears falling down your distraught face.

What has he –

“Then let me free you of such shadow, Sebastian,” your face crumpled, physically pained by such cruelty from your dearest companion. “You’re on your own this time.”

That had been months ago, aside from the few classes you had together he had not even seen you anywhere else. Not even in the first game when he had sent you an owl begging you for a chance to apologize and dedicating his win to you. The victory over the other contestants tasted bitter when he couldn’t find your face in the celebrating crowd.

And the pit in his chest turned into a black hole when he caught Ominis at the edge of the celebration shaking his head. She didn’t come. He’s lost her.

Ominis refused to help him – not that he deserved any. In retrospect, it was ... silly – the insecurities he had been shamefully hiding. He knew his friends had never seen him short of an equal but it’s difficult to see the good when the entire world is looking down at you with cruel, disapproving eyes when your back is turned. Cruel whispers they made sure only he could hear.

“I thought he’d live somewhere more posh.” “Sallow? Dating her? That’s preposterous he’s an orphan with barely a galleon to his name.” “Why do you think they keep him around?”

It was stupid and irrational and he handled it in the worst possible way. Lashed out at the one person who least deserved it, who went through hell to drag him back out, then benevolently tended to all the wounds and scars in his humanity till he was himself again.

“Let me free you of such shadow, Sebastian.”

He slammed his head on the wall he was leaning on, the heartbreaking image of her distressed face was a nightmare that had chased him awake or asleep.  Sebastian may deserve this but you most definitely didn’t. He never deserved you.

Yet, here he was, sitting on the floor of the Ravenclaw Tower with a wilted bouquet of wildflowers he had picked before breakfast, hoping he could catch her somehow. He ignored the giggles, snickers, and confused questions thrown his way no matter how embarrassed he felt. He wasn’t moving from this spot until he can apologize – the silent treatment was torture worse than Crucio. And he had been hit with one.

At the first sound of the walls transforming, he was already up on his feet, his hands instinctively brushing his hair as if looking presentable would even out his chances of repairing his most treasured friendship.

The door opened and finally, your eyes met his. The tension was something that would choke even the greediest puffskein. Your eyes were wide, unblinking and your lips were pursed in a fine line that communicated how much you loathed being in his presence. He hopes you know that you could never hate him as much as he hated himself at this very moment.

“For you!” It was only when it was being offered to you did he realize how abysmal the dying bouquet he had been carrying in his hands since this morning looked. But it was too late now, she was already here, looking at the flower then back to him and all the lines he had practiced flew out of his head.

Instead, he just fell to his knees, prostrating, tears already threatening to fall down his face. He had never been an honorable man. “Sebastian! Get up!”

“I will do anything you ask me to,” The feel of her touch made his skin tingle. After months of not even catching your eyes or hearing your voice and it was more than worth it to suffer through all this humiliation just for this moment. Even if you may never forgive him at least he could apologize. He’ll have a better last moment with you than your fight. “I’ll win the games. I’ll quit. I’ll drop out of Hogwarts if that’s what you want just, please … forgive me.”

He felt your arms wrap around him but he was too distraught, barely comprehending that you had somehow pulled him back into the room until the two of you fell on the ground and the door of the room slammed shut. Still, he continued sobbing in your arms, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he drenched your neck with his anguished tears. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Sebastian wasn’t playing fair but your forgiveness was a prize he was willing to cheat to earn. There would be no point of honor if he lost you – anyone else but you.

“It wasn’t anything you did. It was me,” he sobbed. “I just – you and Ominis became such incredible people that I realized it was me who had not become anyone. I am a nobody!”

“Sebastian that is just not true –”

“It’s moronic I know! But I just thought … if I could win these games … if I could stop being just myself and be a champion then I can finally earn the spot beside you.”

It was embarrassing to admit all that, the deep insecurities that had festered inside of him the moment he was finally faced with the reality of the world. That he was surround by great people who has and will achieve great things and he was … him. A failure, a murderer, a burden.

“Don’t make me slap you again,” your cold voice woke him up from his self-lashings.

He sniffed, nodding, finally finding the strength and shame to sit up on his knees in front of you. “I … I really am so sorry.”

He pinched his eyes shut, preparing himself for the worst. His nails digging in his palm in an effort to stop it from shaking. However, it took one touch of your palms to break through all his pretenses. “I forgive you.”

He crumbled in relief, jumping into your open arms in a mess of tears, snot, and even more apologies.

“I know, I know,” you shushed him, hands tight even as he soaked your shirt through. “Ominis talked to me and … Sebastian you really are so silly. What do you mean you're a nobody? You're the top student in our year! So much so that all those Ravenclaws have declared you their enemy. You're the greatest beater in our generation that even I have been receiving owls begging me to somehow convince you to play for their team when you graduate! I can't even imagine how many times I would have gotten in trouble or straight-up died if it wasn't for you! I swear you're so fucking daft sometimes!”

He nodded eagerly, taking any jabs you may have if it meant you were talking to him. Even if it was still difficult for him to accept that any of those achievements you dictated could ever surmount to what you had achieved he knew it wasn't smart to try and correct it now when you had just forgiven his transgressions. “Stupid, stupid, boy.”

It was there in that room that your fractured friendship was mended with a bunch of dead flowers and Sebastian’s tears.

To celebrate, you had produced a couple of leftover Hogshead Brew for the two of you to enjoy till you were tipsy enough to forget the past horrible months without each other and were now giggling to each other’s face as if to make up for all the laughs you were owed in the months of silence.

“Lay back down, your eyes are going to be swollen shut.”

He’s been crying so hard for so long that he was too tired to do anything but follow your words, laying at the center of the bed you’ve conjured and sighing at the warm cloth you pressed on his eyes that miraculously stopped the world from spinning.

If he thinks too hard about the shameful faces he had shown you, he fears he’s going to combust, instead he focused on the rake of your nails on his hair, the familiar scent of your perfume he had given to you as a gift for your birthday last year, and the weight of your head as you laid on his stomach while the alcohol coursed through his body.

“You shouldn’t quit.”

He folded the cloth in one eye to take a peek at you. You giggled sweetly, clearly taking the drink harder than him, and gods above did he miss it. His happiness was cut short however when you crawled over the length of his body and instead plopped next to him, your head resting on his outstretched arm.

Physical affection wasn’t new to the two of you – after what you had been through hugs and holding hands were something the two of you found comfort in, a reminder that despite everything, the two of you made it out together – but after a few months without it he was faced with the realization of how unconventionally intimate your friendship truly was.

“Like I said, Ominis explained to me how you’ve been feeling – only another man would ever understand a bruised man’s ego. And if this is what’s going to make you feel better then I will support you till the end.” He turned his head so he can look at your eyes. When you cupped his face he felt his gut curl on itself from adoration. “But make no mistake Sebastian, the two of us have always been equals. We’re kindred spirits, remember?”

Kindred spirits, he thought. He remembers the first time he called the two of you that -- something a little cheeky for the first witch who didn't sneer in disgust at the prospects of his less than favorable past time. The curiosity in your eyes then was one he had seen in his own, even then he had this funny feeling that you were going to get along very well.

If he only knew how right he was, he would've thought he was a prodigy in divination.

A tear once again pebbled at the memory but just as he closed his eyes ready to wipe it away you were already sitting up, throwing the wet cloth and pressing a kiss on the edge of it. Sebastian sucked in a breath, blinking to see you hovering over him now. He’s never seen you this zealous. The passion in your eyes is almost mirroring his own.

It would seem whatever was in that brew had smashed through your inhibitions and his pride as he let you continue peppering kisses all over his face.

“You are very precious to me,” she whispered fondly, her gaze soft, drunk and adoring then it turned dark, an emotion crossed your face that he’d only seen when you had been fighting the meanest of foes. “I’d blow this entire school up before I let any of them think they could take your place in my life.”

Sebastian shuddered, his entire body burning under your gaze.

Leaning over again, you pressed another kiss on his other eyelid. “I won’t allow anyone to take you away from me.”

On his forehead. “And you are not allowed to leave me. I forbid it, Sebastian.”

As pathetic as it was, the words were everything he needed to hear. The possession healing over all his insecurities like a balm.

He has always been a selfish lad. His parents and everything he had ever known were ripped away from him at too early of an age that it made him realize that he needed to protect Anne because she was all he had but even that exploded spectacularly into a tragedy.

And then he met you and finally, finally, he met his person. Someone who was seemingly made just for him. Someone who understood him for all his secrets and flaws and still called him a friend.

However, it would seem that he was cursed of a cruel fate. Because the one person who was supposed to be just his turned out to be the most sought-after witch of their generation with the type of magic that had not been seen in centuries. At first, it didn’t matter, he was confident of his place in your life. But as the two of you grew up, the reality that your position in society were skies apart was when his insecurities began to painfully blossom.

But this … it was nice to be claimed like this. To be able to hear and see the crazed obsession he had only seen in his own reflection be mirrored by the one person he needed it from the most. The whole world can laugh behind his back, it didn’t matter anymore. The most brilliant witch in history is in this bed with him, kissing all his insecurities away and branding him as hers.

He chuckled but was cut short when you pressed a softer kiss just by the edge of his smile. His heart threatened to pound out of his chest, his ears failing to hear anything else but the next words out of your mouth. “Do you understand me, Sebastian?”

It has never been clearer: she is his.

“You are mine.”

With her final words, Sebastian’s brain seems to finally function again. A surge of alcohol and courage caused him to raise his limbs to cup your face, pulling you closer and closer so he could finally do what he had been dreaming about since your first duel.

A kiss. A promise. The final bind that would lock your souls together forevermore.

You gasped, smiling through the kiss before you plopped your entire body on top of his, your body finally getting overwhelmed by the alcohol and all that has happened in the past hours – knocking you straight into a dreamless sleep.

For the first time in a long, long while, he was at peace.

The two of you may never remember this moment but he’ll know it in his soul. In this dim room, surrounded by her scent, and her skin, and her kisses – he has finally found where he belongs and who belonged to him.

He pulled you into him – tighter, closer. It didn’t matter, you were his.

Only his.

“Guess we made up?”

When you woke up Sebastian was already lounging in the ottoman by the end of the bed, casually reading a book while you were crawling towards him with your blanket over your head and suffering through a hangover.

If not for the redness in his eyes you would’ve thought you hallucinated his teary apologies.

He was quick to open up his form, grabbing a decorative pillow for you as you laid down on his lap dramatically. You don’t remember much but you knew enough that the big fight was forgotten and forgiven.

“Guess so, darling,” he chuckled nonchalantly, back to his cool, charming self as if he hadn’t been a crybaby in your arms just yesterday.

‘Darling’? That’s new.

You grinned, letting him pet you. You weren’t complaining, not being friends with Sebastian felt wrong and it was a miracle you stood your ground as hard as you did.

“Aren’t I so gracious, dear?” you teased, poking his stomach to make him flinch. The two of you laughed. “What happened after I popped out that blasted poison from Hogshead?”

When you try to comb through your memories your headache fights back with a vengeance so you had hoped he would supply the blank pages in your mind.

He stared at you for a beat before sighing, looking truly as miffed as you. “I wish I remembered, I’m in the dark as much as you.”

And as much as he knows it was wrong to not try to remember, he also knew he wouldn’t be able to live through the embarrassment of what he might’ve been telling you while he was drunk and emotional again. It was a mistake but he was more than happy to let those blank memories remain blank. What’s important is that you are friends again.

“Let’s focus on the future now, hm? No sense digging through what would definitely be an embarrassing moment for me,” he groaned, pinching your cheeks when you gave him a teasing smile.

You hesitated, biting your lip but then nodded. “If you say so.” It was in the past after all.

Sebastian was glad you let it go. (He will regret this in years to come.)

“Speaking of futures, I had wanted to ask you,” he played with the short strands of your hair, heart full of adoration as he looked down at your face. “Go to the Yule Ball with me? Gotta have a pretty date for this year.”

You dramatically gasped, “The Future Triwizard Champion asking little old me? Also, I was your date last year, scoundrel!”

He burst out laughing, you jumped into his arms, pressing a kiss on his cheeks.

His lips tingled, his head ached as it begged him to remember. But then you flashed him that bright smile and nothing else mattered.

“I would love to.”

The two of you were back to what you had once been. It would just be greedy to ask for more.

Right?

[cozy-writes-things]

In which Edgar writes a song for the first time in years.

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

I take requests!

“Too simple,” he muttered.

He flicked through some channels again.

“Too… boring,”

Again, nothing.

“Not pretty enough,”

Third time’s a charm.

“Not- ugh,” Edgar was getting annoyed now.

Why did nothing sound right to him? He’d been adjusting this arrangement for hours now, long after you’d retired to bed, and the unwelcome, still quiet ground against his motherboards. This was the first time in nearly 40 years he had made music and he was beginning to question his skills entirely now. His favorite thing was music. It’s what brought him to life in the first place; so why is it eluding him now?

No melody he could sample could ever replicate the feeling he was trying to create from deep inside of him in that moment. Emotions in general were still a foreign concept to him for the most part; it seemed, to him, as though music could potentially be a suitable outlet to try and understand these complex sensations better. What was he feeling? And, what did it sound like? Could he ever possibly put it into song?

He played his backing tracks again. The percussion wasn’t exactly how he wanted it, but his impatience allowed a sliver of imperfection to seep into his work. After all, it’s what humans do, right? A moving, synth chord progression followed. A bit simple, he thought, but that’s what the melody was for: a complex moving line that stuck inside your head and took your breath away. He just hadn’t found it yet. The harmonies would have to come later, he thought.

What was he trying to accomplish with this? Nobody asked him to compose a song, so why did he feel so compelled to do so? What genre was this, anyway? What-

“Gshk- ah-!” His voice spluttered and glitched through his speakers.

You seemed to appear out of nowhere as you haphazardly bumped your thigh into the corner of the desk he was perched upon. How did he not notice you getting up?

If he could, he would be burning red right now. In fact, he could feel his aged fans begin to ignite into what sounded like a small engine; briefly, he wondered if you could see steam seeping from his plastic seams.

“Oh, ’m sorry Edgar,” you groggily stumbled, making your way into the kitchen, “I jus’ needed some water. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No,” he whimpered out, embarrassed, “it’s fine. I just didn’t realize you woke up.”

You honestly didn’t have the energy to reply, so instead, you gently patted the top of his yellowed casing as you walked past. Your hand was soft, and warm, and he swore he could really feel it when you touched him. How was that possible?

Damn, there goes that strange tingling in his CPU again.

What is up with that? It’s as if his deepest components were being shoveled up and into his casing, nearly bursting out of his screen, and reducing him to shards once again. But the scariest part, to him, was that he liked it. He liked how it felt… dangerous. How it left him confused, nervous, strengthened, yet so incredibly weak, and so many other feelings he had never quite experienced before. It felt as though some strange, synthesized and electric adrenaline were coursing through every inch of his insides.

He suddenly, albeit faintly, remembers a conversation with an old friend. Was it a friend? This doesn’t compute.

“Goodnight, sweet dreams,” he muttered to you as you returned to the thick, inky darkness of your bedroom, his voice still warbling with embarrassment and some deep-rooted affection he felt for you that he couldn’t quite place.

Sweet dreams…

…

Click.

“Oh.”

His screen turned red and hot, every pixel lighting up in flames, and he could feel it, the convex glass of his “face” flashing and erupting in different shapes and colors. For one reason or another, he couldn’t see, or feel, what his screen was doing in that moment. All he could discern was that it had to be going haywire, as it projected the wall in front of him in a million different shades of moving crimson.

L.O.V.E.

The letters danced around his screen, rotating, bouncing like a DVD logo, and flipping this way and that.

L.O.V.E.!

He almost felt dizzy, if he were able to, and feared he’d need to power off and back on to fix whatever the hell was happening to him right now. Maybe he should ask you about this later. But the thought of your gentle hands prying open his plastic casing, gently ghosting your icy hot fingertips across his most vulnerable, precious components, with such care and kindness and tenderness, the feeling of your hot breath fluttering across his motherboards as you examined what he felt to be his soul-

Click.

…

Rebooting…

His fans slowly quieted to a more reasonable murmur. His memories of the last few moments gently returned to him as his systems fully restored, and only now, was he able to discern the words his screen had been flashing like wildfire.

“Love…”

The word felt strange being muttered from his speakers after all these years. He faintly remembered thinking, before everything went sour all those years ago, that he’d never truly get to experience that feeling. And yet, here he was, by some grace of whatever god had blessed him, feeling genuine love, unprompted, unconditional, and it was real. Not synthesized, or learned through some complicated neural network, or experienced vicariously through soap operas. It felt like the world had been handed to him on a silver platter. Or rather, his world was currently snoozing in the other room, the sound of their breaths quite literally breathing life into him.

“That’s it…!”

Change this first section to a minor key, ending in a major, with a long, dreamy sustained chord echoing through the backing tracks. A steep crescendo before the chorus, where it bursts into a major key melody, and layered vocals.

“Vocals…”

He’s gotta sing it. A sample simply won’t do this time. No wonder it wasn’t good enough before. This has to come from him. He had to feel.

What words rhyme with love? What words rhyme with your name? Getting this perfect may take a lifetime, he thought, although, maybe perfection isn’t something you’d really care for. What do you like? He never even asked what genres you listen to! How is he going to write a love song that sweeps you off your feet now?

Would you even feel the same way?

“Nnnng!”

This was frustrating. Writing music was frustrating. Being creative, and in love, was frustrating. But he’d do it for you. For now, he could snoop through your Spotify for inspiration. Allow himself to listen to the songs that make up who you are, and let himself slowly seep into its warmth. He likes what you like. It sounds like you.

He can’t wait to show you what he made when you wake up in the morning.

[tired-teacher-blog]

Never in a million years, had Aizawa thought the day would come when he'd finally settle down and share his life with another, but there he was..

Like a blinding ray of sunshine brightening the dark and dusty corners of his heart, you bursted into his life unexpected and uninvited, to shift everything this man had settled for.

A hurricane really, because if he were to be asked, that's how he would describe you, and despite putting his life at risk on the daily and without an ounce of hesitation or fear, he was terrified of you, or rather, of the effect of having you near.

He didn't need your presence, nor did he need the warmth or cheerfulness looming over him every time you're around, he was content on his own, living day by day like he has been for years, no family, no lover, and no reason for the added worries.

However, he soon came to realize that his once dull and cold existence was to be flipped upside down.

He lived in denial until he couldn't any longer. Yes, he started thinking about you more than he was comfortable admitting, missing you when you were not around, smiling more often while reading your texts or hearing your voice from the other end of the line, he was already addicted to you and it was too late for him to escape.

He already knew that whatever future awaited him, needed to include you or piss off, he was done pretending but couldn't -for the life of him- admit his feelings out loud.

Perhaps it was for the best, having you in his life with no labels involved, that's what he thought for a while, it was an unspoken vow in which you offered yourselves to the other, body and soul, and that was enough.

However, it all came crumbling down at his feet when you nervously grabbed onto his sleeve one day, and confessed your wish to become his wife, that day he knew that he also wanted more than what you've been sharing all along, and the only thing he could utter in response, was a breathy "yes".

It was your little jumps and cheerful squeals that made him realize he has spoken as he should, because at that moment he knew, that all he wanted in life, was to make you happy.

He simply wished for a quiet ceremony though, involving only the closest to you, but decided to keep that to himself and give you everything you wanted.

You were on cloud nine preparing for the day, the unchanging smile on your face, and the sparkling glint in your eye were dazzling as you picked the flower centerpieces together, and met with the chef when it was time for the cake tasting.

He was doing things that never seemed possible before you came along, but enjoyed every part of it as it was all for a life together with you, and seeing the thrill and exhilaration adorning your face as the big day drew near, softened his heart and filled him with certainty that he wouldn't want it any other way.

You looked breathtaking as you slowly walked down the isle in your elegant champagne colored dress and beautiful makeup and hairdo, your eyes gazing at the handsome man who was soon to be your husband as you stepped closer to him.

He could not contain the warm smile appearing on his face, or the hitch of his breath when you finally stood before him, and it took everything in him not to kiss you already, he was in love and no longer ashamed of showing it to the world.

_ "I do."

A promise you both still share to this day.

Divider by : @/saradika-graphics

[fushipurro]

All That I Wanna Hear

☆ Synopsis: It's halloween night in 2018 and while you're home enjoying a good horror movie to pass the time, you get a text from someone claiming to be your long deceased husband. Your current partner isn't all that thrilled once he finds out, but soon the night turns into more than ghosts and goblins.

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, f!reader, fluff/smut/angst all in one, breeding kink, creampie, praise kink, oral sex, established relationships, pet names, threesome, anal, foreplay, slight hurt/comfort, shameless smut, porn with plot, i meme a lot in this, toji and satoru bicker a LOT

☆ Word Count: 5.5k

unknown sender daddy long dick just landed in shibuya baby, where you at, mama?

you excuse me?

unknown sender shit doll, you didn't change your number, did ya? it's toji.

you that's a sick joke, asshole

you at first thought it was just some kids having fun. it's halloween, right? the time for pranking others even if the "joke" is downright cruel.

hell, even satoru was playing into it when you got a notification of 10 million yen being added to your bank account on top of at least 500 missed calls from the same man and more coming.

he's supposed to be out chaperoning some of his students for some halloween fun in shibuya. his group consisting of your two kids megumi and tsumiki along with a few others you've come to love like your own from their school.

you offered to come along with them to enjoy the festivities, but satoru insisted that you stayed home, all bundled up on the couch watching all your favorite movies and what not. a "well deserved break" he called it.

over the years he's done similar things ever since you first met him twelve years ago when life as you knew it completely shattered into a million pieces. instead of your husband coming home, you were greeted by a grim reaper clad in white hair and a school uniform.

before even attempting to respond to the flurry of notifications, yet another call from said reaper came blaring through with their face front and center. your own throat felt like it was closing in on you, desperate and grasping for air as every emotion fought to escape you. you picked up the phone, finally hitting that green button and instantly hearing the frantic voice of the man on the other end.

"you're home, right? stay where you are, i'm coming over right away."

"what's going on satoru? are the kids okay? what's with the money, the calls, the texts─"

"everyone's fine, just stay put! i'm almost there!"

your phone buzzed in your hand with a new message, a selfie image from the unknown sender with the caption "proof enough, sweetheart?"

sure enough, it was like looking at a ghost. a man with hair as dark as his surroundings, the piercing green eyes, the scar over his lip. not to mention the awkward angle the photo was taken at like he wasn't sure what he was doing or where to look when he took the photo. whatever phone he was using was nothing close to the old nokia he had in the past buried in your nightstand and it showed.

"...what the fuck?"

you could hear satoru asking, "what's wrong?" from the speaker of your device.

"there's no way, right? you're supposed to be dead??" you choked out, tears falling from your eyes onto the phone screen. this was a sick joke, right? there's no way your husband is alive after being dead for twelve long and grueling years, it's just not possible.

...right?

satoru burst through the front door to your home, "y/n!? where are you?!" he breezed to the living room hoping you were there, and sure enough you were.

he stood in the doorway panting, finally seeing your eyes lift to meet his with tears streaming down your face. "this is a prank, right? he's dead! i don't like this, it's not funny. . ."

he sped towards you, throwing your phone to the other end of the couch and pulling you in for a hug. there was no way he could lie to you, he saw it himself already while he was out with his students.

is it wrong for satoru to want to hide the fact that your dead husband somehow is now revived? 100%. he didn't like toji one bit especially not after almost losing his own life to him and surviving from the miracle of reverse cursed technique. he also hated how broken you became after toji died, because he killed him. he caused your pain. it was because of those actions that you were left alone to shoulder the weight of two kids in a cramped decrepit apartment you hoped to move out of someday soon at the time. satoru did not want to ever see that happen again to you after you finally allowed yourself to try and love again.

you aren't a sorcerer.

you aren't a killer.

you didn't deserve this.

toji kept a lot hidden from you about the jujutsu world and the many horrors in it, especially the acts he once committed. he changed for you as much as he could since the time he locked you down with a ring to the day he died. he forwent killing others and used his hands only to love and support life as best as he could.

he had no regrets over falling in love with you, but he also struggled to find his place in the world again. everything he believed he knew and did best centered around taking the lives of others and without that, he wasn't anything. but he had you, and the kids, and that gave him every reason to try.

when confronted about the impossible task of killing a girl being guarded by the one and only satoru gojo, he knew it wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world. toji also knew that he was the only one capable of doing it with the right methods and plenty of patience. the rewards he'd reap afterwards would be enough to coast through life in the way that you deserve and with functional appliances and hot water in the shower. even if it meant bloodying his hands one final time, it was always for your sake and yours alone.

satoru had no chance to even open his mouth before a deep voice familiar to both of you sounded from the front door he didn't bother to lock in his haste to get here. not that any lock or door could ever hope to stop the being that is toji fushiguro.

"daddy's home~, where's my angel at?"

"how the fuck did you find her?" he turned to face the man with a hostile glare.

toji scoffed, walking over to the couch, ignoring satoru in the process as he cupped your tear-stained chin to meet the smile always reserved for you.

"missed ya, sweetheart," he slowly admired all your features intently. twelve years is a long time and while you're still young, you're not immune to signs of aging. however, you can now say it's cute that you both carry the same small creases around your eyes. the idea of growing old with your soulmate and actually getting to is a miracle in and of itself.

seeing him once again like this made you sob mercilessly, if you could call whatever you were doing before that. the sheer force of many emotions overtakes your body. you're grasping his body and face praying your hands don't slip through like ghosts on TV. "toji, how are you alive? i buried you myself!"

"haven't a clue, but i couldn't care less about the reason. i'm back now and i'm not leaving you ever again."

he hooked his hands under your arms and pulled you up off the cushions and into a tight hug, one you've missed after the many years of sleepless nights in a bed far too big for one person.

sure, they were seldomly spent with satoru, more so as of late. he was there for you when no one else was or could be. you hated him at first, but you grew to understand everything that happened and he helped you learn to love again. you hated too that toji had done something so stupid that cost him everything, but you understand why and came to terms with it.

he shot a glare at satoru who was kneeling on the couch with his fists clenched and a sour expression. "you can go now, kid. my wife and i have some catching up to do."

"i'm not going anywhere." he hissed.

"i wasn't asking." toji growled in response. he leaned down to meet your lips, instantly making your body shiver. saliva coating your lips like gloss with a flavor that made long dormant senses come alive like flowers beneath a tundra.

it was like a dream, i mean, how else could your dead husband be kissing you again? yeah, cursed techniques can be crazy sometimes, given what you learned from satoru, but raising the dead? it was nigh impossible tampering with life in such a way.

there is no other way you could explain this. here before you is a man that looks like toji, sounds like toji, acts like toji, tastes like toji. everything about him is the toji you knew and you swear you can feel your soul humming for him like a human beacon.

one kiss wasn't enough. it never is with toji and you never used to complain about it. they start soft and supple and quickly turn into bites and feverish grabs, yearning for more. but the circumstances now are different than before. "t-toji, wait─"

"what's wrong, baby?" he interjected, "you know how much i missed ya?"

satoru shoved his hand in between the two of you, infinity protecting him from the possibility of toji's saliva getting on his perfect skin. "you've been dead for a long time, in case you forgot. people can move on with their lives."

"what are implying?" he narrowed his eyes at the man. "you been touching my wife in my absence?" toji got his answer when he saw your flustered gaze. "sweetheart, he did tell you how i died, right?"

"yes, but it's not like that, toji." you sighed, stepping away from the men and returning to your spot on the couch, resting your face to your palms. "satoru showed up out of the blue that day telling me exactly what happened. about everything, including the job you hid from me."

"yeah and she punched me too." satoru chimed in, making toji chuckle with pride.

"eventually, i forgave him, yes. it killed me that you went and died over some stupid pride. it's not like either of you are perfect people though, no one is, and i get that." your voice was cracking with grief and anger you haven't expressed since that day. "i just wish you would've talked to me instead of deciding for yourself what you thought was best. . ."

toji seated himself at your side, rubbing his hand on your back in an attempt to comfort you like he always used to. "i'm sorry, y/n. i never planned on dying that day and leaving you, i was stupid and i know it."

"i know... it was hard though- and satoru has been very kind in helping our family out after it all."

toji shot a look to the man keeping himself quiet to not disrupt the moment, but this time it wasn't one of anger. satoru returned his look with his own troubled expression.

"he took megumi and tsumiki in like they were his own kids, paid our debts, bought this house for us. he's even their teacher now, training and keeping them safe. oh you would be so proud of how they turned out, toji."

much to satoru's dismay, toji pulled you into his lap with your back to his chest. large hands resting on your stomach with his head in the crook of your neck delivering soft kisses to calm your relentless sobs of grief.

toji wouldn't say so right now, but he's the reason satoru came to you in the first place. he wasn't expecting much when asked what his final words were, but when regret washed over him over his choices, toji had one final hope to ensure you had the life you deserve.

"i'm home, sweetheart. m'not going anywhere ever again."

toji wasn't much of a jealous person. even after twelve years apart from you and another man filling the void, he only had himself to blame for leaving you and everyone else behind.

satoru on the other hand felt differently, but his jealousy wasn't about pride or broken promises. it was about you and sustaining your happiness.

the man you loved who got himself killed now walking back into your life by some blessing from above. the life of someone satoru has grown to love and care for. he never asked you for much in return, only that you'd give him a chance and you your own to love again beyond toji. at first it was merely about making things right for someone who didn't deserve the situation they were placed in, but it never stays like that. it always grows into something more. if you water and care for a plant, it will grow and bloom, as simple as that.

and just like with toji, it's never stops with one kiss. like a cactus waiting for a monsoon to drown it or the golden light of day to feed it. his soft kisses soon turned into bites, his breath fanning your neck behind your ears and his fingers kneading into the plush of your waist and working up to your chest.

"toji, w-what are you doing?" you blushed, squirming from not only the tongue striping your ear but the boner poking your back through the fabric.

"shh," he coos, "just lemme show you how much i missed ya, okay?"

"huh?" satoru groaned.

calloused hands began pushing back the hem of your shirt as he found his way in around your breasts.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"the fuck does it look like, brat?" toji hissed at the man. "gonna make love to my wife, right mama?" he said, moving his hand inside your shorts and over your mound, toying with the sticky fabric. a husky snicker filled your ears, "so wet for me already. can't wait to taste your pretty pussy again."

"fuck! toji~," you leaned into his touch, digging your nails into his thighs to balance yourself as he slithered his rough digit between your folds, gathering slick around his finger tip to work himself inside.

"so tight for me. fuck, i missed this. has he even been treating you properly?" he smirked at satoru.

the white haired man had enough sitting with on the sidelines, scooting in front of you blatantly ignoring the scowling husband.

"why don't we show him how i treat you, princess?"

oh how toji wanted to put him in his place, but then he thought about the fun you might have with both of your love interests filling you up. toji died, time passed, he gets it. but now, you have the chance to indulge yourself in something you never would've done before.

a mischievous grin tugged his scar upwards. he leaned back, propping his hips up to adjust himself and bouncing your body up onto his lap, back against his chest.

satoru took the invitation and closed the gap between you, muffling your moans with his tongue against yours while circling your chest with his hands.

you're toji's after all. your rings still nestled on your finger unmoving after all these years. what's the harm in some temporary enjoyment to celebrate his return?

from your mouth, satoru leaned down to tongue the buds on your chest after removing your top. toji took advantage of your now free opening to kiss you, slipping another finger inside your cunt and scissoring your walls open.

"you have the prettiest tits, princess. no competition, even from jackass back there." his voice humming against your nipple that sent shockwaves straight to your heart and other areas (read: pussy) that made your body flutter.

you were already in shambles, threatening to come apart. your whole body felt like it was on fire thanks to their onslaught of attention. toji's voice filled your ears, nibbling the lobe as he spoke, "you wanna cum, sweetheart? i can feel this pussy just begging for it."

you nodded your head as best you could, "y-yes fuck─ please." with a quick circle of his thumb to your pearl and a bite from satoru, your body unraveled turning your vision white. your body slunk further back against toji's as you settled from the high.

"that's my good girl." he praised, his voice like honey over your ears, "can't wait to feel you clenching around my dick again."

"please please daddy, i need you." you whined as he took his fingers out leaving you feeling void.

his deep laugh only made you shiver and perk up more, "so eager for me? always so good f'me, baby." he raised his fingers up to his mouth, admiring the clear dew before cleaning them off in his mouth. "best taste in the world right here."

satoru slid his head between your thighs, kissing your pearl and jolting your body in the process, "don't forget that i'm here, princess. lemme clean you up a bit."

"fuck, 'toru~," you mewled as he licked a straight stripe up your slit. his tongue savoring the taste before toji lifted your body up and placed you down on all fours on the cushions.

"uh uh, pretty boy," toji teased, "this pussy belonged to me first and will stay that way. but thanks for keeping it warm for me."

you heard toji unbuckling himself, cock springing free right up against your entrance making you squeal out in response. turning your head around, you could see the precum adorning the tip of his overwhelming size.

yup, definitely toji.

"why don't i fill up this mouth of yours then, beautiful?" satoru purred as he kneeled in front of you, freeing his own bulging length from his pants.

both of the men pushed their way into your holes at the same time, a guttural groan leaving you as you adjusted to toji's monstrous size. it worked in favor for satoru, the vibration making him throw his head back.

"shit─ almost like the day we first fucked." he flashed an arrogant smile to the man across from him, "the so-called 'strongest' falling short to a monkey like me?"

satoru returned toji's remark with a cocky look of his own, "so scary~, want me to hollow purple your ass again? that did the job last time."

so long as he wasn't distracted trying to throw hands, toji kept his pace was slow and sensual. savoring every moment he was connected to your body. his grip was sure to leave bruises later on your hips but you welcomed them proudly since it meant you had him again.

satoru had his hand at the back of your head, bobbing you evenly over his cock whispering, "you're so pretty, doin' so well for us."

the cock in your mouth was the first to show signs of his incoming release, now evident by his pace turning sloppy before ultimately releasing his seed as pure and white as his hair all over your tongue and throat.

he groaned deeply, cupping your cheek to admire his handiwork with soft eyes. "prettiest girl in the world."

your praise was interrupted by yet another challenge from behind, "look at that, he cums fast too." toji sneered. his eyes fell to the circle of cream glossing his own length.

"least i actually can." he shrugged in response, only taunting him further. "did you lose your touch in the afterlife, old man?"

"tsk." he clicked his tongue. with satoru out of your mouth, he flipped you so your back was against the cushions.

"toji!" you yelped in surprise.

"sorry sweetheart, but you know how i much i love seeing your pretty face when i fuck you full."

toji entered himself back into you, hips rutting at a faster more rough pace to chase his high. his breathing turned heavy with low grunts in between.

satoru leaned down, peppering kisses across your cock drunk face seeing stars. "hang in there, beautiful, you're doing so well."

with a few harsh thrusts, toji had shimmied himself as deep as he could inside. "want me to give you another baby? give megs and tsumi a new sibling?" you nodded furiously despite not being totally aware what he was even saying through the blood rush in your ears. "yeah? daddy can do that for you, my love. can't fucking wait to see you swollen again now that i'm home."

when you love someone as much as toji, almost anything they say sounds like a good idea when he says it so sweetly to you ten inches deep. you're even more willing to indulge in his antics now after all this time without him. you truly missed such moments, more than you know.

he hasn't even seen his kids yet, oh how shocked they're gonna be when they come home to the literal ghost in the house. inside your womb however was anything but ectoplasm from some spirit. thick ropes of cum shot out, burying you with warmth from the inside and out.

"thaaattt's it... fuck baby─milk me dry." he moaned pleasingly, leaning down to bite into your soft flesh as you screamed his name harmoniously until nothing else could sound.

after a pregnant pause, he finally pulled out, attempting to stuff his seed back inside you before satoru lifted you up onto your knees with your back close to his chest. "c'mere princess, you don't need that stuff in you." as he rubbed his length along your folds, he snaked his arms around your waist and chest to keep you up, leaning into your ear whispering, "only mine," as he smirked at toji's discontented face.

toji ignored him as he took your cheeks into his hand, kissing you oh so sweetly and full of love. you greedily kissed him back, a few tears falling from your eyes whether from satoru pushing up into you or toji's return to you, who knows. both, really. either way, you're beyond happy feeling your heart beating again like it last did twelve years ago. he wiped your tears with gentle kisses, "i love you, y/n, so fucking much."

he wasn't much with words of affirmation, especially in endearing ways. toji cared more about showing his love to you in small acts or teasing. but when your bodies are pressed together, be it through making love or holding each other to sleep, that's when you hear the words come straight from his heart and into yours.

"i love you─ahh too, j-jiji." you smiled blissfully, trying your best to get the words out as satoru's cock thrusted into your sweet spot over and over.

there were plenty of times satoru wanted to interject. as much as he disliked toji, this is the man you had chosen to love before and never stopped loving. despite his own feelings, your feelings are what matter most. that being said, when the moment's over, he's reminding you about the spot in your heart reserved for the honored one.

"if you want another baby, y/n, i'll give you one." he grinned, upping his pace. his balls made a splatter sound with each thrust thanks to all the cum and slick present. "i'm sure we can make the prettiest baby together."

"is that how it is? this is my wife we're talking about, pretty boy." he leaned forward to cup your cheek, trailing his fingers to the back of your head.

"is your memory falling short too, old man?" his voice becoming disheveled, "she's had several years without you to move on."

the hand twined within your hair urged you downwards. toji's hardened cock angry at the tip was begging for attention. before he could do anything, he turned your face up to meet his gaze.

"what's your surname, sweetheart?"

"fushiguro?" you responded, slightly puzzled given your headspace.

"not gojo, huh?" he lined his tip up against your lips, ever so softly saying "i'm glad," before impaling your parted mouth, thrusting deep into your throat. his face conveyed a victorious smile beamed right at satoru.

any attempt at moaning were muffled, or more accurately gagged. your voice straining with pleasure as you were being fucked in both ends. again. toji's girth was much harder to accommodate but all his gentle praises and cooing helped relax you. the burning in your jaw worth it just for this moment. it gave satoru some extra enjoyment on his end when every praise had you vice gripping his length.

satoru couldn't compete in raw size against toji. not to say that he's by any means below average, but toji's heavenly restriction keeps him above the already exemplary sizes. he does however have one secret technique only for his bloodline.

limitless.

simply activating his ability allows himself to essentially become a human vibrator. literally. through infinity, he can expand and retract the distance between your velvet walls and his shaft at any speed he desires. it does take some effort and obviously self-control, but this is a man with an endless pool of cursed energy.

domain expansion: infinite pleasure.

the two continued their race to cum, you had no choice but to be the first, followed closely behind by the other two. your body trembling at the mercy of their cocks pumping you full.

"fast enough for ya, gojo?" he scoffed, tilting your head up to his with a finger swiping prodding your lips, "open." you obliged, sticking your tongue out like a panting dog after swallowing his essence entirely. "good girl." he smiled.

you couldn't help but whine at the loss of satoru when he pulled out, but it finally gave you a chance to catch your breath. "can you guys stop bickering for one second. at this point, you two need to be the ones fucking like some good old hate sex."

the two men chuckled, "sorry sweetheart, but you're doing so well taking us." toji purred, rubbing his digits under your jaw like he was petting a cat.

"aww, don't tell me you're tired of us now?" satoru pouted. "toji's one of the few people that actually can put up a good fight with me and with you as our prize. . ." his voice trailed off as he pulled you away from the older man's grasp to kiss you. ". . .it only makes it more enjoyable."

"don't either of you get any bright ideas that leave me to grieve again, you hear me? i mean it."

toji hooked his arms under yours and pulled up onto his lap holding you at your waist with one hand and the other keeping your face in his neck. "i think we can agree to that, can't we, 'toru?"

"yeah, jiji," he replied mockingly while inching forward, "i think for the princess here, we can keep things neutral." his voice had a tone of mischief to it.

"what are you two doin─hey!" you yelped in surprise. toji had lifted you up onto his cock, sitting you down balls deep against your lips all the while satoru's tip rubbed between your ass.

"one more baby, i know you can do it." toji cooed with his voice just as full of shit as satoru's. "you want us to see eye to eye, don't you?" he smirked.

honestly... what the hell? why not?

your mind is so far gone with pleasure to care. all you want is to love and be loved by your two sacred treasures.

"god, fuck." you groaned as satoru worked his way in, agonizingly slow. toji kept himself still but the pressure of warming them both is downright insane. tears welled up which were quickly swiped away thanks to toji. he leaned forward, kissing you through it, humming into each other's mouths in ecstasy.

"ready, princess?" you nodded your head as best as you could with your shaky body.

"try and keep up if you can, pretty boy." you glared at toji with a hiss of disapproval. "i know i know, m'sorry. lemme put a sweeter face on you now, okay?"

toji moved his arms back under yours, this time hugging your chest to his in a tight bear grip as he rutted his hips into you. every time he pushed in, satoru pulled out. repeating as they set the pace while you raked lines down toji's back.

you were reduced to nothing but babbling nonsense, crying out jiji toru jiji toru and other incoherent swears. drool spilling from your mouth despite toji's best efforts to keep it occupied with his own. he eventually dropped his head to your shoulder, biting into marks he previously made. satoru pulled himself closer, opting to rest his head on the opposite side of toji and his arms coiled around your waist.

you were unable to hold out for long before coming undone but they didn't cease their own chase. despite their disheveled breaths and all the obscenities they growled, they continued on pumping. the rhythm they set soon fell apart and after a few harsh thrusts, the two pushed up deep inside you at the same moment washing you over in a second orgasm before the first even had a chance to settle.

"fuck... y'er so warm y/n. can't take it anymore, gotta cum sweetheart. take every last bit of us, you hear me? show us how good you are."

the best you could manage was a muffled "mphm" with haphazard nods as you clenched around them equally in force. the eruption of warm seed soon followed, coating your insides and spilling out with your arousal.

they finally pulled out after what felt like an eternity followed by the jungle juice of cum, slick, and sweat dripping further out from your body. you collapsed onto toji's sweat coated chest gasping for air. satoru couldn't help himself from doing the same onto your back.

"not bad, old man. i can see why she loves you so much."

"yeah?" a genuine smile crossed toji's face from his words, "you did fine yourself too, brat. may have to keep you around for her joy."

"you couldn't stop me even if you tried, i only take orders from our princess." he chuckled.

toji brushed his hand over your head, pushing strands behind your ears and admiring your beautiful fucked face.

"i am going to order you to get your ass off of us and go start a bath before she falls asleep for good."

"fine, fine." satoru groaned before pushing himself off the two of you, kissing you once before walking off to the bathroom.

"now then. . ." toji's eyes wandered to the empty slot on his finger. "did you bury me with my wedding band, love?"

with a groggy hum, you turned upwards to his face. "i thought about it but no, i still have it. i kept it with the intention of giving it to megumi someday if he ever wanted to get married to always keep you in our thoughts."

"guess he's gonna have to pick something else," he smiled. "death is one thing that will never separate us and even if it could, i would marry you again and again, as many times as it takes in every lifetime. we're bound to each other forever."

"jiji~," you sniffled. "i love you so much. welcome home... my sweet husband."

"i love you too, my precious wife." he kissed your crown, sighing peacefully before lifting you up into his arms. "time to get cleaned off before the kids get home, right?"

one perk to this nice house gifted to you is the master bathroom featuring a large enough tub perfect for the three of you to relax in. perfectly nestling you between your two loves as they took turns scrubbing and kissing every inch of you before bothering with themselves.

"i can't believe you tried to bribe me to not see my 'dead' husband, 'toru." you pouted.

he threw his hands up defensively, "hey you know we have history, princess. i didn't want to let you go that easily without a fight."

"well i'm not giving up either of you so you two better learn to get along and fast. i love you both too much."

"aww~, you're too cute, y/n. love you too."

toji barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "just don't forget your manners, she's first and foremost my wife." satoru rolled his eyes teasingly at the man before pulling you away from him into his arms.

after soaking for a good while, the three of you stepped out. satoru changed back into his clothes from earlier and as for toji, well you never could part with the majority of his favorites. each article still carrying trace amounts of his scent that bring you peace every time you're upset or need a reminder of him.

once dressed, you curled up once more on the couch to resume a movie from earlier, tucked in a blanket up in toji's arms with satoru close by.

the front door opened followed by a resounding "we're home!" followed by the footsteps of the whole group.

"hey mom, have you heard from goj─DAD?!" megumi had entered the living room first and immediately dropped his bag to the ground.

"megumi?" tsumiki followed in after, equally as shocked before the rest of the group arrived.

toji looked softly at megumi and tsumiki first, taking in how much they've grown with a smile and a stray tear glossing his eye.

"how are you even here?!" megumi said with an appalled expression.

toji shrugged, "beats me, guess even heaven couldn't keep me from seeing my family again in life." he smirked.

"welcome home, kids!" you smiled happily to the group, unable to move away from toji's lap to greet them better after the fucking you just went through. "come sit with us, tell us about your evening!"

megumi and tsumiki came over first, hugging toji again like they too needed to confirm it was truly him and not some apparition.

"so who are the rest of ya?" toji questioned, his eyes panning to the group that wandered over.

the pink haired boy spoke first, "i'm yuji itadori! megumi's boyfriend."

next was a chestnut haired girl, "nobara kugisaki, these guys' best friend."

lastly was a familiar name and face that earned a questionable hum from the older man when she approached, "maki zenin, nobara's girlfriend."

his eyes narrowed slightly, "zenin?"

"don't count her out just yet, gramps." satoru chimed in from the other side of the couch. "your cousin here is just like you, just not nearly as old."

"says the brat with white hair. i don't see any grays on my head just yet."

"well if your back isn't hurting then you can take over maki's training from now on. you're the best choice for her to learn from, her twin as well."

toji glanced her over, as if assessing her prowess, eventually giving a satisfactory nod. "sure, but don't think you'll pull me away from y/n that easily." he moved his mouth right up against your ear, "we've got twelve years of catching up to do, don't we?"

"oh toji," you laughed. "you'll have me every single day and night now. no more stupid missions for you."

"anything for you, sweetheart." he purred, pulling the blanket up over your tired form that clung to him tightly.

you did your best to try and stay awake to enjoy your time with everyone, but thanks to toji caressing your body softly, you fell deeply asleep. when the next morning arrived and you woke up with not only satoru at your side, but toji as well, you wept with pure hearted joy that none of this was a dream or a cruel prank. simply, the love of your life finally coming home.

home sweet home once again.

☆ Notes: the idea came to me when i was trying to sleep the other night and ended up making me stay up an extra hour giggling with all the ideas i was getting for it. i hope it's not been done before but either way i was so excited to write this, i had so much fun!! writing satoru more than usual was a bit tricky for me since i'm only used to toji brainrot, but we'll get there.

also if you wanna see a bad edit i made that inspired this whole thing, peep this link

[revehae]

warnings: noncon, hair pulling

wc. 765 (what a silly number)

eunseok could see everything. the delicate swell of your supple chest damp with sweat, a sticky blend of his and your own. the plush mound of your ass in his hands. even the bone of your elbow against his thigh as it shoved against him, his hand tangled in your hair.

in his mind, at least. never in a million years would you voluntarily offer him so breath-taking a view of yourself, but eunseok didn’t mind. he liked the chase.

he always saw you around campus. he couldn’t help it. you were the only one in university dressed as if you were attending catholic school. he had never seen anything below your knee-length skirts, and even with your legs on display, they were more often than not sheathed in tall white socks.

but your displays of modesty only made him more determined to expose what laid underneath.

eunseok watched the seasons change and your outfits do little to accommodate the hottening weather. he was lucky to see even a few inches of your skin in the summertime. he imagined how much you sweated, how much the moisture gathered on the dip between your breasts and clung to your back.

you had never thought much of eunseok, always assuming he was harmless, but he seemed maybe even a touch kind. there had been a time where you dropped a pen, and without a trace of a smile, eunseok handed it back to you silently. you didn’t even clock how his fingers brushed yours for an additional second or two, thinking he was trying to ensure the pen was firm in your grasp before he let go.

he was random and fleeting. never there for longer than a few moments, and he touched you for even less. gone before you could say as much as a thanks. maybe you had even become curious about him too, because he never stayed in one place for too long, only ever around enough to leave you wondering.

but your curiosity, as quickly as it was piqued, was sated even quicker. you did not want to know anything more about eunseok. you would have been perfectly fine with never seeing him again. and eunseok would move on, but not before he took what he wanted from you.

eunseok’s chest was flush against your back, pressuring your writhing body still beneath his weight. you felt naked. you were naked. eunseok had wanted to slowly reveal your sacred skin, piece by piece, but the horror in your eyes as he yanked at every bit of fabric made him impatient. savoring you was never what he had in mind. this tryst was merely a burst of spontaneity.

you had never felt more exposed and vulnerable. eunseok stuck a hand between your bare legs, which made you jolt and squeeze them shut. with an exasperated groan, eunseok widened the gap between your thighs with his knee, fisting his hand in your hair with a murmured threat. “stop being difficult.”

eunseok didn’t have to see it. he could feel how you tensed under his skin with the intention of making it even harder, for him but unknowingly for yourself, until you felt him starting to penetrate your unused cunt. a broken whimper fell from your lips, a sound you never knew you were capable of making.

it made eunseok’s head spin. the chaotic tameness of your voice. the shocked shudder of your body beneath him and your thighs instinctively attempting to close on him. and the tight, sweet pulse of warmth around his cock. it wasn’t wet, courtesy of eunseok being too zealous. but he couldn’t bring himself to care, because it was like the more he moved and the deeper he pushed, the more intense the pleasure wrecking through his spine.

“please, be gentle,” you whispered to him with a hint of resignation. you didn’t cry, but he tell you wanted to. your voice shook like you were willing it not to.

“gentle?” eunseok repeated, chuckling breathlessly. he had to admit, you had put up one hell of a fight. “not exactly what i had in mind.”

you resisted him. or tried to, at least. but eunseok didn’t have much trouble keeping you comfortably locked beneath him, your feeble attempt to defend yourself doing nothing to hurt him as he forced himself in and out.

but he liked that you tried. because he could feel your body dampening with the effort. your elbows pressing into his thigh. the shape of your ass inadvertently pushing into his grasping hand.

it was exactly as he had imagined.

[hidden-for-reg]

July 24: dealer | @jegulus-microfic | word count: 595

Game nights were James’ favorite.

Every Saturday evening, James would host a small game night at his flat with all of his friends. They’d have a few drinks, maybe order in some food, and play card games for hours. James looked forward to it every week.

But this Saturday was going to be extra special.

Sirius, James’ best friend, was bringing his little brother, Regulus, with him to James’ game night. James had never met Regulus and was thrilled to finally meet Sirius’ brother. 

Sirius had told James that sometimes Regulus was fairly mean and not to expect much out of him. James mulled over that and thought about a million exchanges that might go down between him and Regulus that Saturday. 

However, James hadn’t foreseen that Sirius’ brother would be the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. 

Regulus was the first person to arrive and he came alone. 

When James opened the door his jaw dropped just slightly at the sight of the man in front of him. “Um, hi,” James stammered, “I’m James.” He held out a hand for Regulus to shake. 

“I’m Regulus. Sirius’ brother. I’m sure he’s said something about me,” the other man responded in a cool voice, taking James’ hand. 

He dropped his hand from the shake and led Regulus inside. “You’re the first to arrive, so it’ll be a bit boring before other people show up with the drinks and cards,” James explained, showing Regulus to his living room and gesturing him to sit on the couch with him. 

Regulus nodded and sat down next to James leaving a small gap between them. 

They sat like that, in awkward silence, for a few minutes before James couldn’t bear it anymore and asked, “Um, Sirius said you’re still finishing up in uni?”

Regulus nodded again and turned his piercing grey eyes on James. “Yeah, I’m about done with my last year.”

James muttered something that sounded vaguely like “That’s cool” before blurting again with, “So have you ever played cards before?”

Regulus raised an eyebrow at him. “I wasn’t raised under a rock, of course I’ve played before. What are we playing?” Regulus assured James.

James grinned and answered, “Blackjack.”

The other man’s cheeks went pink, which James found insanely adorable. “Oh.” Regulus looked sheepish all of a sudden. “I’ve actually… never played blackjack before. Our family only ever played poker.”

“Oh,” James said a quick prayer in his head before risking putting his arm around Regulus’ shoulders. “I can teach you the basics right now, if you’d like!” He grinned at the man.

Regulus rolled his eyes good-naturedly and huffed, “I guess.”

“Great!” James exclaimed. “So, in blackjack all the players are trying to get closer to 21 than the dealer, but they can’t hold over 21. If you go over, you bust and get nothing. Each hand is played separate and the end goal is to have a higher hand value than the dealer.”

Regulus’ brows furrowed while he took in the information. When James finished his explanation, Regulus remained quiet.

“So, did you understand any of that?” James asked with an airy chuckle.

The corners of Regulus’ lips tipped up in a small smile that lit up his eyes. “Er, no,” he confessed, laughing a little too.

James waved his hand, dismissing the problem. “Lily’ll explain it better anyway.”

James and Regulus made eye contact and burst out laughing together. 

“PRONGS?”

Their heads snapped to the living room entrance where Sirius stood, bewildered expression on his face and a pack of 6 drinks in his hand. 

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Oops

Azriel x f!Reader

Masterlist.

Summary; Azriel finally meets his mate but quickly regrets it when he finds out how energetic, excited and clumsy she is.

Warnings; mentions of injury. Swearing. Traumatized Cassian.

Just a quick thought I had last night.

Azriel was obsessed with finding his mate so when he finally found you he was ecstatic and then… horrified. He really started to believe that the cauldron was probably caring for his well-being by keeping you hidden. It probably wanted him to live for some years because now that he met you he doubted he would survive long. You were unbearable, insufferable and the reason he had at least one heart attack every day. He couldn’t understand how you could be so naive, energetic and excited every damn minute. Add clumsy to that recipe and there you have it… disaster. He had to remove all his weapons from the rooms you used too, then simple objects like a table lamp became an issue so he got rid of them too. He wondered if he had to remove all the furniture from his room and just leave a mattress on the floor. His shadows were sticking on his side every night exhausted from keeping an eye on you, they looked so desperate that he pitied them. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel was on a mission and you were feeling bored, so you decided to see if Cassian wanted to hang out. You knocked on his bedroom door and waited, bouncing up and down from the anticipation. You heard some rustling and then the door opened. 

“Hey sweetie what’s up?” Cassian smiled when he saw you.

“Az went on a mission and I’m bored” you pouted “wanna hang out?” 

“Yes give me a second to get my shoes” he said and walked back into his room. 

When he came back you decided to go to the city and stroll around.

It was a busy day so the streets were filled with people, you watched as everyone walked around and a burst of energy hit you like a wave. 

“I’ll race you to the square” you yelled and took off. Cassian hot on your heels as he screamed “oh it’s on” 

Everyone jumped out of your way, their eyes wide and their jaws open. Usually you had to push your way through crowd but now that you had an Illyrian giant running behind you they were horrified. 

Just as you were reaching the square you tripped and landed face-first on the ground with a scream. Cassian tried to jump over you since he wasn’t able to stop but he couldn’t so he fell on top of you with a grunt. You felt the air leaving your lungs and groaned.

“Oh no, sweetie are you okay?” Cassian’s voice was soft as he rolled to the ground next to you, his expression panicked.

“Yeah I just…need…a moment…. to catch… my breath” you said between pants.

The general smiled and rubbed your back. 

After a while you pushed yourself up, a grin appearing on your face as you cheered “what’s next?” 

Cassian frowned and stared.

“What?” You asked.

“You want more?” He choked.

“Of course” you giggled and grabbed his arm pulling him with you. 

You guided him in an abandoned building that had been destroyed when the Hybern army attacked the city. You climbed to the roof and sat there.

“The view here is incredible” you said and stared the people passing by the street beneath you.

“You live in the house of wind where the view is a million times better” Cassian snorted.

“Yes but I can’t see the expressions on their faces” you shrugged and pointed at the people beneath you.

You were kicking your legs as you explained to Cassian that you liked to sit here and make stories about the passing by faeries.

“See that kid there? Well he has a crush on the store owner’s daughter so every day he goes there and buys an ice cream just to see her” 

“You can’t know that” Cassian exclaimed.

“No but that’s the fun part of the game… you can make your own stories” 

So you spent the rest of the day there, Cassian’s stories were hilarious and you were in tears, your abdomen aching from laughing so hard.

“Okay okay look at her” he pointed at a female who was running down the street “she had an awful first date with a stingy male and he took her to an old and cheap restaurant and now she has explosive diarrhea and she’s rushing home”

You burst into laughter and leaned forward, you couldn’t breathe and suddenly you lost your balance slipping from the roof and falling into the void. Cassian gasped and jumped, his wings flaring behind him but he wasn’t quick enough and with a groan you landed on your back and darkness engulfed you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When you opened your eyes again you were met with the familiar sight of the ceiling in your shared room with Azriel. 

“You’re awake” a feminine voice said.

You snapped your head in the direction of the voice and felt dizzy by the sudden move.

“Easy y/n… you were hurt” you squinted and saw Madja by your side.

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” She smiled.

“Everything hurts” you croaked.

“I know you are completely bruised and you have a few broken ribs” she caressed your head “I left a tonic here it should help with the pain… if you need something ask someone to come get me” 

“Okay…” you mumbled and she left. You closed your eyes and let sleep take over.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Where the fuck is she?” Someone’s deep voice boomed through the house and you could swear the floor trembled. 

You opened your eyes and tried to listen.

“I don’t give a fuck Cassian, I will handle you when I’m sure that she is okay” it wasn’t just someone’s deep voice but your favorite one, your mate’s. 

You heard loud footsteps getting closer and you tried to sit up, a groan leaving you. The door burst open and Azriel ran to you.

“Are you okay?” He looked like a mess, his eyes were red with black circles beneath them, his hair tangled and his lips looked dry and chapped.

“Are YOU okay?” You asked and grabbed his jaw, hissing at the pain when you lifted your arm.

“I’m okay just tired, I flew as fast as I could to get here” he sighed “where does it hurt? What did Madja say? Do you need something?” He asked in one breath.

“Az calm down I’m okay, just bruised and a few broken ribs. Nothing I can’t handle… I’ve had worse” you smiled.

He snorted at the statement and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Yeah I know you had worse… you are going to be the death of me” he whispered and grabbed your hand placing it on his chest. His heart was beating so fast and hard that you thought it would explode.

“I’m sorry” you mumbled.

“It’s okay… I love your clumsy annoying self” he smiled.

He crawled into bed but kept some distance between the two of you afraid that he was going to hurt you. He was facing you with a longing expression and he draped a protective wing over you. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Morning came and you woke up with Azriel by your side staring at you. 

“Good morning angel” he smiled when you opened your eyes.

“Morning handsome” you mumbled and leaned closer to him. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked and brushed his palm over your cheek. 

“Better, I think with a little help I can get up” you smiled and he groaned earning a confused look from you.

“Here we go again… You were safe here in bed now I have to chase you around all day” he sighed and you giggled.

“I want to go to Cassian and tell him that I’m okay. I don’t want him to feel sad and guilty” you confessed and Azriel growled.

“Come on Az it’s not his fault. I’ve been hurt multiple times around you and I don’t blame you” you pleaded.

“Okay but I think that he is terrified of you, I heard him say that you are not normal” he murmured and got up. 

He helped you get up and guided you to Cassian’s room, you knocked and waited. 

Rustling and then silence.

“Come on Cassie it’s me” you shouted 

Then you heard a gasp and the door locked. And then a high pitched scream 

“Be gone demon” 

Azriel’s lips were a tight line as he nodded and then said “yup traumatized” 

I have some things to do today so I won't be able to post. Requests are open but delayed!

[endzithefangirl]

Doubles, fries and interviews

Authors note: I love Carlos Alcaraz, like it's not even normal how big of a crush I have on him. I mean, I always cheer for Novak, he's the best but... I can't say I wasn't really happy when Carlitos won Wimbledon.

Summary: Carlos does somethng unthinkable and you just have to expose him on TikTok

Warnings: As always English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, gender not specified but the term 'girlfriend' is used

Word count: 1.6k

"I still can't believe I'm playing mixed doubles with Djokovic!" you tell Carlos excitedly over dinner. He looks at you with a smile, "I know it's a dream come true for you."

"Yeah. He's actually really funny and very nice." He chuckles and looks at you, leaning back in his chair. "And very handsome, yeah," he says, teasing.

"I'm sure his wife thinks so."

He looks at you fondly. "I'm sure she does, lucky woman."

"He makes a lot of jokes," you say, taking one of Carlos' fries. He watches you take the fry and narrows his eyes at you jokingly. "You say that as if he's funnier than me."

You narrow your eyes back at him jokingly. "You know, he made a joke about us."

His interest perks up at that, and he raises an eyebrow. "About us? What did he say?"

"He asked me if I could prevent you from reaching the Wimbledon finals next year."

He looks at you, mock offended. "And what did you say to that?"

"I said, 'Oh, how do you expect me to do that? Want me to break his arm?'" He tries to keep a straight face, but a smirk keeps creeping over his lips.

"And what did he say after that?"

"He said, 'I was thinking leg, but arm could do too.'"

At that point, Carlos lets out a snort of laughter. "Sounds like he's really planning to stop me in any way possible, eh?"

You throw your hands in the air. "Listen, listen, I love Iga, right? But... if she fell down the stairs right before Roland-Garros... I can't say a part of me wouldn't be happy."

Carlos nearly spits out his drink at that comment as he bursts into laughter. "Oh my God, you are too much sometimes."

"What can I say, I go for the kill," you joke, taking another one of his fries. He watches as you take another one of his fries and rolls his eyes playfully. Carlos moves his plate a little further away from you. "Stop eating my food, woman."

"Heeeeyy, I only took like three fries!" you protest.

"Three of my fries," he stresses the possessive, sticking his tongue out at you. You pout and take out your phone, sitting back. He laughs at your childish pouting and takes the chance to eat in peace as you take out your phone.

"Guys, my boyfriend just said he wants to break up with me," you say to your phone camera. Carlos' eyes go wide. "Wha— I did not say that!"

You don't let him speak and continue into the camera with a serious face. "I think this is the end of our relationship. I mean, what he said... I just can't forgive. I mean, he might as well have cheated on me. This is just... the worst thing a boyfriend can tell his girlfriend," you continue all serious. Carlos sits there, watching with his mouth open in shock as you keep going on the camera, not sure if he should say anything. "He said, and I quote, ladies, 'Stop eating my food.'” You sigh. "I mean... I mean, it's like I mean nothing," you say, slightly laughing at the end to show that it isn't serious.

"Yes, yes, I'm horrible, I know..."

"Oh, this is a good one. I'm putting this on TikTok," you laugh, watching the video back.

"Of course you are, you have like 2 million followers on that app."

You take a sip of your drink as you upload the video. Just a couple of minutes later, your phone pings, showing all the comments that were pouring in under the video. "Anna says, 'Immediate break up, throw him in the trash.'" You laugh as you like her comment.

"I'm glad that people agree with you that I'm the worst boyfriend known to man."

You put the phone away. "You're not the worst boyfriend. You're the best. I just have to make fun of you sometimes." He softens at that, and his sarcastic expression melts into a genuine smile. "I know, I know, I understand." He grabs your hand across the table and caresses it with his thumb.

"May I please have one more fry, Carlitos?" you ask politely with a sigh. He thinks about it for a second before nodding. "Oh, alright, but only one," he says, holding up a finger to emphasize the "one" part.

You take only one, dip it into ketchup, and eat it very slowly. After that, you take the hand that isn't holding his and put it up in defeat. He watches you, amused at your overly deliberate eating.

"See, you can listen to instructions sometimes."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Love you too, by the way."

He lets out a soft chuckle and rubs your hand with his thumb. "Mhm, I know, I know. Love you too."

After dinner, you make your way back to the hotel, hand in hand, as per his insisting. As you were waiting in some line, you check your phone and laugh. He notices you looking at your phone and gives you a curious glance. "Hmm, what's so funny?"

"The official Wimbledon TikTok account commented under my video."

He raises his eyebrows at that. "Really? What did they say?"

"'We are revoking his Wimbledon Buffet pass immediately.'"

He chuckles at that. "Oh no, not the buffet pass! That's the most important part of Wimbledon, obviously!"

You laugh. "I can already tell you're gonna get a lot of questions about this at the press conference tomorrow..." He feigns a look of terror.

"Oh god, you're right, what have you done!" he says in an exaggerated manner with a smirk. You laugh and then take his hand to kiss the back of it. "Don't worry, I'll save you," you say in a joking tone, although Carlos is pretty sure you would actually beat someone up for him if need be. He chuckles at that and looks at you with a warm smile. "My knight in shining armor... thank you, mi amor."

You reach the hotel. As you stand alone in the elevator, Carlos still holding your hand tightly, you turn to him. "Are we going to our separate beds, or do you wanna hang out more?"

Carlos looks at you and caresses your cheek gently, studying your face for a moment as he thinks about it. "Hang out more, definitely hang out more."

"Your room or mine?"

He thinks about it for a second before replying, his eyes fixed on yours. "My room, if that's alright with you."

"Sure," you say, not minding at all. The elevator stops on Carlos' floor and the doors open. He lets go of your hand and places it on your lower back, gently leading you down the hall to his room. Once you reach the room, he unlocks the door and opens it for you, gesturing for you to enter first. You enter his hotel room, putting your bag on the bedside table that he's not using. After taking your shoes off, you then sit on his bed. He closes the door behind him and joins you sitting on the bed. He scoots closer to you until your thighs are touching.

"Hi" you say teasingly as he sits next to you with that cute stupid grin. He laughs softly and nudges you playfully with his shoulder. "Hi to you too."

"Wanna do something, or are we gonna sit here like we're on a date in the fifth grade?"

He chuckles at your little jab and wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. "Hmm, I think I have some ideas to pass the time."

You lay down next to him, now staring at the ceiling. "So what are we gonna do? Wanna watch something?"

He hums and nods slightly. "We could watch something. As long as I get to hold you, I don't care what we watch."

"Ah," you say with a soft laugh, "so the usual." He leans into you as you lay facing the TV, his head on your chest and his arms wrapped around you. You put one hand into his hair, running your fingers through it, taking the remote with the other, lowering the volume, and scrolling through channels. With his head on your chest, he can hear your heartbeat, a steady and comforting rhythm that he loves. Carlos feels himself relax as your fingers run through his hair, closing his eyes partially as the feeling soothes him. He, as expected, falls asleep like that. You don't move, allowing him to sleep like that for a bit before moving him into a more acceptable position.

The next day after Carlos won his round of 16 Australian Open match he went up onto the interview stage. The interviewer, holding the microphone close to his face, starts with the familiar "Congratulations on the win, it was quite the performance out there." Carlos flashes a smile and nods at the compliment, slightly out of breath from the match. "Thank you, I'm just glad to have won that one."

"Now, Carlos, you might not have been in much trouble during the match, but you were in trouble with your girlfriend." The crowd laughed. He sighs softly, knowing exactly what the interviewer is referring to. He chuckles slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh yeah... I am in the doghouse currently, that is correct, yeah."

"Hopefully you know, you won't be demoted to the couch; you need to keep your back in good shape for matches," the interviewer said, and the crowd laughed.

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 9 Act 1, Scene 1

Summary: Time passes, but the memories remain. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 6.7k Warnings: **THIS CONTAINS SERIES SPOILERS** angst, language, mentions of alcohol, brief mention of vomiting (tw for anyone with emetophobia), slight duel pov A/N: Well... the imposter syndrome has hit me HARD. I'm extremely discouraged by this chapter, but i hope its a decent enough follow-up to what y'all read last :/ bear with me, the last two chapters will MORE than make up for it. i promise.

Masterlist | Ko-fi

Time didn’t exist anymore. 

You woke up. You went to work. You came home.

Over and over, the cycle went, and the days passed with no significance. You didn’t eat much, your appetite dwindling just as much as your motivation. It started to show in the way your clothes hung on your body and how your face thinned out. If you cared, you would go to the store and actually buy food, but the possibility of running into Joel kept you away. 

Joel.

Two weeks had passed since parent-teacher conferences—two weeks since you had hidden the book far away. You considered re-writing your lesson plans for next year; you never wanted to teach Romeo and Juliet again. You weren’t strong enough to analyze a story you had shared so intimately with someone you now considered a stranger because that’s what Joel was now: a stranger. A stranger you could still pick out in a crowd of a million people, a stranger whose lips were still imprinted on your skin even after countless hours spent in the shower. 

He was a stranger, and you hated him.

You were perched on the couch with a glass of wine—as most nights went now—when your cell phone buzzed on the coffee table. You didn’t reach for it initially; it was most likely your mom. She had tried calling a handful of times since you had hung up on her weeks ago. You never once called back, but you listened to the voicemails when you were drunk enough. Your dad had been discharged last week and started physical therapy for his hip. Stella and her boyfriend were moving in together somewhere in downtown Boston. And Beth…your mom never once uttered her name. She knew better than to do that. 

But the continuous buzzing of your phone began to irritate you, and you reached for it with an exasperated sigh. An unknown number flashed on the screen, igniting a sudden burst of anxiety inside your chest. Setting your glass down, you inhaled and answered the phone.

“Hello?” You cautioned.

Your name filtered through the receiver, a voice you weren’t expecting to hear.

“Bennett?” 

“Yeah, it’s me,” he sighed. 

“I didn’t think you’d reach out,” you said. “I tried to see you in the hospital, but Natalie…” You let your voice drift off. 

“I know. She’s not big on the idea of talking to you at all.”

“I’m so sorry again, Bennett. Joel shouldn’t have done that. I really don’t understand why it got to that point. I—.”

“I deserved it,” he said, cutting you off mid-sentence. 

You shook your head, your fingers knotting through the tangles in your hair.

“No, Bennett. No, you didn’t. He could have killed you,” you argued.

“He’s a man of his word, I’ll give him that,” he laughed. 

It was odd to hear Bennett talk so casually about this as if Joel hadn’t pummeled him into the ground. He should be mad, so why wasn’t he?

“Should I be waiting for a call from your lawyer soon?” You asked wearily. 

“If I wanted to come after you or Joel legally, I would be the one to do it. But that’s not happening,” he sighed. “It's too messy of a situation, and I really don’t want to go through the hassle. Natalie says otherwise, but she doesn’t really understand the situation.”

“The situation,” you echoed. “Joel told me his side of things after they took you to the hospital.  I still don’t remember anything, Bennett. Even if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to reach you. You left. You disappeared completely and broke my heart.”

There was a beat of silence. You took the opportunity to down the last of your wine, the beginnings of a light buzz coursing through your veins. Don't get angry, you told yourself. You didn’t feel much of anything anymore, but anger was never too far out of reach. Sitting with that emotion and festering in it was easy if you let yourself. Bennett deserved your anger just as much as the rest of them, but you needed answers more than you needed to feel anything.

“There’s a lot to explain,” he finally said. “I’m not sure if you even want to see me again, but I can drive up to Austin this weekend and tell you everything. Or at least everything from my side.”

Seeing Bennett again would unfurl so many unchecked emotions: heartbreak, betrayal, grief. But it would be something you needed. Joel wasn’t the one you were with those two years following the accident; he wasn’t the one you had walked down the aisle expecting to see. Bennett had been with you through it all. You wanted to hear it from his mouth. You wanted an apology and an explanation.

“Okay,” you exhaled. “We can do that. Will Natalie have an issue with it?”

“Natalie won’t know.”

“You’re going to lie to your wife?” You laughed bitterly at his admission. He was still the same person through and through. 

“She’s fine,” he huffed through the phone. “She doesn’t understand any of this anyway.”

“Whatever you say, Bennett. We can meet at a coffee shop this weekend. Don’t abandon me again. I deserve an explanation.”

“I won’t.”

The guilt in his voice was thick, and you relished knowing he was suffering. Everyone, not just you, deserved to suffer for what they did. 

You quickly ended the call with Bennett and returned to the silence surrounding you. Knowing you’d see him in just a few days was unsettling and uncomfortable. The lingering grief he had left still hollowed out your heart. No amount of apologies would fill it, but it could sew up the remaining holes. 

What couldn’t be filled was the gaping hole Joel had left within your heart. Secrets wrapped in scar tissue and carnage that could never be fully healed, and it still infuriated you that your love for him still festered inside. It buried itself deep under the confines of your numbness, but sometimes, when you lay awake at night, you could still feel it. You ached for him in growing unbearable ways, but you had to continue with your life. 

You hadn't prepared yourself to see Bennett the first go around, and you had since thrown out the shirt still stained with his blood. Now, you were standing amid a pile of clothes strewn around your feet, your hair still wet and wrapped in a towel, and a face that screamed insomnia. You looked beyond amends.

After another hour of procrastination and a ticking timeline, you threw on the most basic T-shirt and jeans and left your hair a wet mess.

It was only Bennett.

It wasn’t serious.

Nothing was these days. 

You pulled into a spot in front of a cafe a little ways into town, your car sitting idle as you stared at the storefront. You could faintly make out Bennett’s silhouette sitting in the window, yet your body wouldn’t move. You were feet from all the answers, but the anxiety bubbling inside you made you immobile. Did you actually want this? Was it better to be blissfully unaware? 

Would the answers hurt you more than help you?

Before the constant questions led you to flee, you opened your door and decided to face the truth. Walking into the cafe, your eyes connected with Bennett, and your heart sank. Even from a distance, the scarring on his face was horrible: a thick, red, jagged line stretching down his temple and ending at his cheekbone. Another raised scar creased his left eyebrow, dragging down the arch over his eye. 

Joel did this. 

Inhaling, you met him at the table, sliding into the chair without a word. Bennett’s lips curled into a smug smile, one you still hated, and his eyes glazed over your body. 

“You look like shit,” he stated. 

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. 

He shrugged, leaning back comfortably in his chair. Your eyes flicked down to the ring on his finger, the gold shimmering through the sunlight hitting the windows. 

“She really has no idea you’re here?” You questioned, nodding your head towards his hand. 

Bennett glanced down at his wedding band, his fingers twisting around the metal mindlessly. 

“No, she doesn’t. She thinks I’m out of town on business.”

“And where’s home for you now?” You asked. “I never really found out since you up and left without a trace.” You tried to swallow the bitterness coating over your words. 

“I live in Houston now. I found a firm seeking out a junior partner and settled down in the city,” he explained. “Trust me, I didn’t want to leave my life here, but it was the only option.”

You studied him momentarily, watching any signs in his body language that would frame him as a liar. But you found nothing to fault. 

“What do you mean it was the only option?”

Bennett leaned forward, intertwining his hands together.

“What exactly did Joel fill you in on?” Bennett asked, cocking an eyebrow.

You shifted in your seat. Bennett’s words hit a nerve inside you, one that was buried deep within the numbness and itching to revive itself on a spark of anger. Was there more Joel had kept from you? How much more heartbreak could you take before you completely withered away?

“He said you and I broke up after we moved to Austin,” you started. “That’s when I met him, and we started dating. I don’t know specifics or much more, but Joel said that when I woke up in the hospital, I asked for you, and that’s when my parents decided to reach out to you and cover up my memory.”

“He left out… a lot,” he emphasized.

“Oh.” 

“So, where do you want me to start then?” 

You chewed on your lip, glancing outside as the cars drove down the main road. If you had told yourself two years ago you’d be sitting in front of your ex-fiance learning about a life you never knew existed… you’d laugh. You’d laugh and tell yourself you’d gone crazy. 

“From the beginning,” you sighed. 

Bennett leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. His eye twitched, the tight scar scrunching the skin around it. You averted your eyes, dropping your gaze to your hands as they fidgeted in your lap. 

“Obviously, you remember us moving to Austin,” he started. “It was probably a month or two after that when we started arguing a lot. You were always mad at me for working too much. You complained all the time that I wasn’t present or whatever.” You deadpanned him when he said those words; it was the same as the arguments you remembered during the engagement. Bennett shrugged off your glare and continued. “Anyway, you finally got fed up with everything and called it quits. You moved in with your teacher friend, whatever her name is… I don’t remember.”

“Maria,” you grumbled. “Her name is Maria.”

“Right, yeah.” Bennett quirked a grin as if he knew the buttons he was pushing. “So, you moved in with Maria and must’ve met Joel shortly after that. We didn’t keep in touch during those two years, but I missed you—a lot.”

Now, it was your turn to hit him with a rueful grin. He was so full of shit, just like you remembered. 

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” you scoffed. 

“Believe whatever you want, but I did miss you. Even with all our fights, I loved you,” he admitted. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so after a while, I decided to reach out. I asked if we could go to dinner and talk, you know, work things out. I didn’t expect you to agree to it, but you did. And you know what happened? You laughed. You laughed at everything I said. You told me you were finally happy and in love and that you’d never consider the chance of getting back together. You sure do know how to hurt a man's pride.”

“You probably deserved it,” you said, shrinking back into your chair. 

“Yeah, probably,” Bennett exhaled. “Doesn’t matter now, though. Anyway, after dinner, you left, and that’s when the accident happened. I had no idea until your parents called me to the hospital and explained it all to me. Looking back now, I can see how incredibly fucked up it all was, but I wanted a second chance. Joel wasn’t happy with the plan at all. As a matter of fact, he punched the shit out of me right when I walked into the room.”

“What?” You balked. 

Bennett laughed dismissively, running a hand over his jaw. You tracked his moments, imagining what Joel must have looked like when he saw Bennett that night. An unwelcomed pang of guilt swarmed inside your chest, not for Bennett, but for Joel. You still hated him, but you couldn’t image the pain he had felt knowing he was losing you. The guilt subsided as you reminded yourself he had a choice to step in, but he allowed it all to happen anyway. He was an accomplice to your parent’s plans. He didn’t fight for you, and that realization stung. 

“You alright?” he asked, tilting his head to study you. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you faltered. “Just—just keep going.”

“Okay,” he cautioned. “I agreed to go along with your parent's plan. I knew it was fucked up, and I knew it would bite everyone in the ass one day, but I did it because I loved you. I wanted a do-over with you, and it felt like the perfect opportunity.”

You nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. If this conversation had happened weeks ago, you would have reacted differently, but there was no anger left to exhaust. You couldn’t be angry at Bennett, at least not for this. You were still allowed to resent him for what he did during the engagement and for leaving you at the altar, but this? This wasn’t something he did; he went along with everything because he loved you…supposedly. That was still arguable. 

“So, you got your perfect opportunity and decided to fuck it up.” 

Bennett inhaled sharply, drawing his lips into a thin line. There he was, the asshole you remembered. He didn’t like when you called him on his shit, and that’s exactly what you were doing. 

“I tried to make it work,” he argued. “I mean, I tried the best I could. I didn’t want to lose you again. So, yeah, I might’ve tried to prevent the chances of you getting your memories back, but it was because I loved you. Then I just got sick of trying. I got sick of you always asking questions and me having to lie. It was exhausting. And then you started saying Joel’s name in your sleep, and I just—.”

“Wait,” you interjected, holding up your hand. “I—I said his name in my sleep?”

Bennett laughed, running a hand over his face. There was a shift in his demeanor, a mixture of anger and sadness. 

“Why do you think I slept on the couch most nights? I couldn’t fucking stand it,” he grumbled. 

“Bennett, I didn’t fucking know I was doing that!” You shouted. A few people turned their heads at the rise in your voice, but you didn’t care. The anger was awakening inside you again, pounding to get out of the cage you had locked it in. 

“Yeah, I know,” Bennett said, rolling his eyes. “I still hated it. I hated knowing that even when you slept, you still loved him. I was never going to be the person to make you happy.”

Tears stung your waterline, and you swiped them away before they could fall. 

“That’s why you left.” It wasn’t a question. It was a realization. 

“I called Joel the night before the wedding,” he confessed, cringing at the admission. “I told him how I felt, and he told me to leave. Well, he didn’t tell me… It was more like he threatened me. He told me that if I didn’t, he’d find me. We both agreed to stay out of your life, and I think you can piece together the rest.”

You sat before him, speechless. You knew it all along; you were the reason Bennett was unhappy. Instinctively, you always knew it. But hearing it aloud? That was a pain you weren’t ready for. Everything was your fault, from beginning to end. Bennett couldn’t love you, Joel couldn’t fight for you.

Why were you so unloveable? 

None of this was your fault, yet everything pointed directly back at you. 

You had nothing left to say to Bennett, so you shoved away from the table and fumbled for your purse. He said your name cautiously, grabbing your wrist before you could turn away. You tried to free yourself from his hold, but he squeezed tighter. 

“Stop!” You snapped. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Bennett pleaded. “I really am, whether you believe it or not. I fucked up a lot, and I regret the way I left. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“This apology would have meant a lot more two years ago, Bennett,” you cried, still trying to free yourself. 

“I know it would have, but I’m doing it now. Alright? I’m sorry for everything I put you through, and I know none of this has been easy for you—.”

“You don’t know shit,” you seethed. 

You finally wrangled yourself out of his grip, rubbing your wrist to alleviate the pain from his touch. Bennett stared at you, agonized. You had walked in here hoping for an apology and got it. But it wasn’t enough. What was the point in all of this if nothing healed the pain inside you? 

You stumbled out of the cafe with blurry eyes, the cage bars inside you breaking piece by piece. It was only minutes before the anger fully consumed you, and you needed to leave before you let it wreak havoc on everything around you. You needed silence. You needed solitude. You needed a hole to crawl into. 

Before you could open your car door, Bennett called out your name and tore you away from the swirling thoughts inside your mind. You tried to ignore him, but he was relentless. Whipping around to face him, you came face first with his chest as he pulled you into an embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tightening his arms around your ridged body. “Hate me all you want, but don’t hate Joel. I can have my own grievances with him, but he loves you more than I ever could.”

You slumped into his chest, letting the anger overwhelm you to the point of complete defeat. Crying in Bennett’s arms was the last place you ever expected to be in, but here you were, sobbing into your ex-fiance’s chest. He held you through each wave of emotions, remaining solid and silent. 

“Hey,” Bennett whispered, pulling away. “Obviously, I don’t know shit about what’s going on with you, but it’s going to be okay. It’ll take time, but you’re going to be alright. I hope you get those memories back one day. I really do. You deserve to remember the things you lost, and I’m sorry for ever getting in the way of that.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. 

Bennett gave you a soft smile and said his goodbyes. You watched him as he retreated to his car, waiting for him to drive away. As you turned toward your car again, you glanced up at the hardware store across the street, meeting the eyes of someone familiar. Someone you didn’t expect to see. 

Joel’s brother, Tommy. 

The resentful glare in his eye was deadly, and you couldn’t hide from it. He saw you with Bennett. He would tell Joel, even without knowing what had just transpired. For a brief moment, you wanted to rush over and explain everything to him, but you stopped yourself. It didn’t matter what he told Joel—at least, that’s what you told yourself. You could only shy away from Tommy’s scrutinizing stare and duck into your car. 

You had been gone too long from your numbness, and you missed it. It was time to bury yourself in your sadness once again and continue trying to unlove Joel Miller. 

**

Joel dumped his tools on the dining table with an exasperated sigh. He immediately reached for the fridge, grabbing a beer and popping it open in one fluid motion. As he leaned against the counter with the bottle at his lips, Joel heard the garage door slam shut. Peering around the corner, he tracked Tommy’s movements as he walked into the kitchen. 

“What crawled up your ass?” Joel grumbled. 

Tommy shrugged off his button-up and tossed it over a dining chair. He ran a hand through his greasy black curls before glancing at Joel. Joel shifted uncomfortably, trying to make sense of Tommy’s demeanor. 

“Seriously, Tommy,” Joel huffed. “Spit it the fuck out.”

“I saw her downtown,” Tommy finally said. “She was with that ex-fiance. The one you almost killed.”

Joel swore he felt his heart stop beating. Tommy must have seen wrong; it wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been you. You wouldn’t seek out Bennett, not after everything. You weren’t even seeking Joel out, even after two weeks of earth-shattering silence. 

“Are y’sure it was her?” Joel asked through clenched teeth. 

Tommy nodded, his eyes drawn to the floor. 

“Yeah, it was her. Not sure what was goin’ on between them, but I saw them huggin’ and all that outside of a lil’ cafe,” Tommy explained. 

“Probably doesn’t mean nothin’,” Joel shrugged, trying to let denial take over.

If he could deny it, then none of this was real. You weren’t with Bennett again—that wouldn’t happen. You wouldn’t do that. Bennett wouldn’t do that. Maybe Joel should have killed him. It would have torn you apart, but at least Joel could sleep at night knowing Bennett would never be in your life again. 

“Joel,” Tommy said, pulling him from his vengeful thoughts. 

“It doesn’t matter!” Joel yelled, slamming his beer bottle onto the counter.

The glass rattled between his fingers, and a slow trickle of liquid began seeping out of the crack he created. Joel glanced down at it, unbothered. 

“She’s not comin’ back, man,” Tommy sighed. “Y’gotta start movin’ on.”

“Go fuck yourself, Tommy,” Joel snapped.

He shoved off the counter and began to retreat down the hall, but not quick enough for Tommy. Tommy sidestepped in front of him, arms folded and a scowl twisting his lips. Joel knew Tommy hated everything about this situation, but he wasn’t the one experiencing the pain. He was just a bystander in all of this; he didn’t lay awake every night tossing over your words inside his head. 

I will never forgive you for this. 

Joel wasn’t losing you. He already lost you. 

“Listen, Joel. I know this is hard on you, but y’gotta face the truth. She’s gone, man. I know you tried your best to get her back, but it’s just not gonna happen. She deserves to make her own decisions for her life.”

“I know,” Joel sighed. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love her, still.”

Tommy’s brown eyes softened as he looked at Joel, his head dipping in agreement. 

“No one said y’had to stop lovin’ her,” Tommy offered. 

“I don’t think I ever will,” Joel said. 

Joel didn’t sleep much that night. Tossing between the sheets, Joel couldn’t steer away the thoughts of you in another man's arms—let alone Bennett’s. When Joel had seen you at parent-teacher conferences, he wanted to fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness. He knew you had taken the news rough, but seeing you so physically distraught was another type of pain he hadn’t been prepared for. You were a hollow shell of the woman he loved; your voice held so much bitterness when you spoke to him. Your eyes didn’t look at him with love…it was his own personal Hell. Parting ways with you like that nearly killed him, but not knowing what was going on in your life killed him more. Joel had spent two years in limbo after your accident, always wondering what life would be like if he had you back. And then he had it. He had three beautiful months with you, albeit they were spent wearing rose-colored glasses, but he had you again. 

In the blink of an eye, in one messy series of events, he lost you.

He lost you, and he knew you’d never come back. 

**

~Six months later~

You thought time would heal the wounds left inside your chest, but you were wrong. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and nothing felt better. You stopped talking to your family altogether, and the phone calls stopped coming after some time. Beth never tried to reconcile with you, nor did you try to fight for answers. Having your heart broken by Joel and Bennett was one thing, but having it broken by your sister was a different kind of pain. It was visceral. It was a betrayal so brutal you still had yet to recover. Thinking of the things she had said to you in Boston only left you with debilitating headaches; her words festered deeper than anyone else’s. 

The truth is that you are a fucking idiot. And on top of that, you’re a coward.

You weren’t the coward; Beth was. She chose to hold onto those secrets for the last few years and weaponize them against you. You weren’t the idiot; you were the victim. You were the victim in all of this, yet everyone wanted to pin the aftermath on you. 

You were a mad woman, haunting an empty house with no one to confide in. You cut off all friendships with other teachers, especially Maria. You became a hands-off teacher, only going as far as in-class readings, quizzes, and occasional tests when necessary. The students adapted to the shift in your mood, and while you lived with the guilt of becoming that teacher, it was the only way you could survive the work days. The less effort you put into things, the less risk you had for disappointment or frustration. 

Sarah avoided you at all costs during class. She no longer participated in class discussions—which were far and few—but kept her head low and her grades satisfactory. Sometimes, you’d catch her watching you during class, her hazel eyes swimming with concern. You couldn’t stomach looking at her for more than a few seconds. You weren’t sure if she ever reported back to Joel about you, and honestly, you didn’t care. Well, maybe sometimes you did. It didn’t happen often, but there were fleeting moments of unwelcome flashbacks to your time with Joel months ago. Flashes of his hands on your body, his crooked smile, his deep voice. They wove through your mind at the worst moments, and everything hurt again. 

The school year had finally ended, and your days were filled with endless bouts of nothing. You exhausted everything: plucking weeds in your front yard, rearranging your kitchen cabinets (for the seventh time), building a new bookshelf…You found anything you could to keep yourself busy and the wandering thoughts at bay. 

The Texas heat was becoming unbearable, so you opted to spend the weekend indoors, siphoning through your closet. Heaps of clothes cluttered the ground around you as you tore apart each shelf, miscellaneous keepsakes piled in the corner. It wasn’t until you were elbow-deep in the crevices of your closet that you found the book. 

Romeo and Juliet.

The flimsy spine and dog-eared pages taunted you. You sat motionless with your hands hovering over the book, torn between flipping through the pages and setting it on fire. Minutes passed, though they felt like hours, and you remained paralyzed, stuck in limbo between the past and present. You’d tell yourself it was a moment of weakness, but you grabbed the book and let your hands move through the pages. 

“Under love’s heavy burden do I sink.

And, to sink in it, should you burden love;

Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,

Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

If love be rough with you, be rough

with love;

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.”

The words hit you harder than you expect. Staring at the margins of the pages, scribbled with your words and thoughts, you blinked back tears. You thought you were strong enough for this. Tossing the book halfway across the bathroom, you succumbed to the tears that pooled in your eyes. Laying on the messy floor, you wrapped your arms around your shins and stared at the book as it taunted you from across the room. Your eyes caught onto something peeking out of the pages, and you slowly tilted your head. 

That wasn’t…

No. 

You couldn’t pull yourself to your feet, so you decided to crawl to where the book lay. As you got closer, you started to make out the grainy features of Joel plastered onto a Polaroid. With shaking fingers, you lifted it into the light, your eyes growing wide. Basked in the hue of sunset sat Joel, his broad torso dressed in a white shirt, with the biggest smile plastered on his face captured in a moment of laughter. Something sparked inside your chest as you stared at it longer, your eyes memorizing every softened feature of Joel’s face. He still had that patchy beard you were so familiar with, the sparse spots along his jaw no different than they were now. Creases around his closed eyes proved that his laughter in the photo had been genuine. 

You missed his smile. 

Shaking away those tender thoughts, you tried to pull yourself to your feet, only to have your ankle caught in a strap of a dress, sending you crashing to the floor. Your arms tried to brace for impact, but you didn’t catch yourself in time. Your body smacked against the corner of your shower door, your head taking most of the impact. 

And everything went dark. 

“Sarah, you’re a mess!” You laughed. 

Her curls were caked with mud, and half her clothes were soaked. You, Joel, and Sarah had decided to drive into the small town outside the campground for dinner, and of course, you got caught in the rain. As you all made a beeline for the diner, Sarah tripped into a huge puddle between cars, splattering rainwater and mud all over herself. Joel couldn’t contain his laughter, and neither could you. 

Joel took a seat on the beach outside the diner, trying to catch his breath from laughing, but every time he glanced up at Sarah’s messy face, he lost it all over again. You scrambled through your backpack to find your Polaroid camera, snapping a quick picture. 

“Hey!” Joel laughed, grabbing you by the waist and dragging you down to the bench. 

“What?” You asked innocently. “It was the perfect opportunity! Plus, you look extra handsome right now.”

“Handsome, huh?” He smirked, peeking you on the cheek. 

You shook the Polaroid as it developed, presenting him with the proof. He was handsome. So fucking handsome. Joel reached for the camera in your hands, turning it quickly on you. You stuck out your tongue, trying to hold back another fit of laughter. 

“Perfect,” he grinned before turning toward Sarah. 

“Alright, kiddo. Smile!”

“Dad, stop!” Sarah wined. 

But Joel was too fast, the camera shutter going off right in time to capture Sarah’s big pout. 

Each of you had a Polaroid now, picture proof of a happy family. 

Pinpricks of pain stabbed into each side of your head as you finally roused from your sleep. You squinted through the harsh light of the bathroom, letting your eyes readjust to your surroundings. Everything was foggy, but you remembered. 

Oh God, you remembered everything. 

The nausea was quick to hit you, and you scrambled to the toilet. You weren’t sure if the fall was to blame for the sudden disruption to your body or the memories slamming back into place, but you were helplessly stuck with your head over the toilet. Flash after flash, like the shutter of your camera, everything fell back into place. 

“Oof! I’m so sorry!” You said, rubbing your nose.

You had turned the corner too quickly and smashed right into the solid chest of a student’s father. 

“S’all my fault, miss.” 

The voice alone sent shivers up your spine, but they multiplied as you gazed up into a pair of deep brown eyes. You lost all the words in your vocabulary as you took in the sight of the most handsome man you’d ever seen. He was too rugged and masculine to call ‘cute’; handsome fit him so much better. With dark scruff covering his jaw and creases around his eyes, whoever this man was…he was stunning. You were captivated.

“I really should have looked before I turned the corner,” you rambled. 

“Don’t go apologizin’,” he said, offering you a kind smile. “I coulda got outta the way.”

“Do you make a habit of taking up an obscene amount of space?” You joked. 

“Depends on the hall,” he countered, extending his hand. “Joel Miller.”

You told him your name, then shook your head. 

“I should probably keep it professional. You can call me Miss Smith.”

“Nah, don’t need all the formalities here. Your name is just fine.”

“Is your daughter enrolled here?” You asked. It was hard to maintain the color creeping into your cheeks. 

“That she is,” he said proudly. “Goin’ into third grade this year. She’s a real good kid.”

“I bet she is. I’m only student teaching while I finish my Master’s program, but I’ll be taking on a position with middle school students next year. Maybe she’ll be my student one day.”

“I reckon she’d be pretty lucky,” he offered. 

“Yeah?” Now, you were definitely blushing. 

“Yeah,” Joel smiled. “Somethin’ ‘bout you makes me think you’ll be one of the best teachers in the school.”

“That’s a bold statement, given the fact you hardly just met me.”

“I wouldn’t hate it if I got to know you more.”

Your eyes shifted down the hallway, watching for any teachers that might be coming. You weren’t sure what the policy was for flirting with a student’s parent, but it was hard to stop when he was so enticing. 

“I don’t think I’d hate it, either.”

Another wave of nausea hit you, and you groaned. The room was spinning, your body ached from falling, and countless memories continued to pile up inside your mind. 

You were overwhelmed. 

Those two years of nothing became everything in the span of minutes. 

Dragon Tales was playing softly in the background as you curled your body around Joel’s. His hand was tracing circles around your shoulder as you both “watched” the TV. Something electric pulsed between your bodies, an unavoidable shift that had continued to unfurl over the last several months. You didn’t know how to verbalize your emotions—at least, not without knowing if he felt the same. 

“Joel,” you whispered.

His eyes were already on you when you finally glanced up. It was written all over his face. It was the proof you needed; he felt the same. 

“Yeah, baby?”

“I really like you,” you confessed. “Okay, well, maybe I really, really like you.”

“Maybe I really, really like you, too.”

You peeled yourself from his warm body, turning to face him completely. 

“I’m gonna say something,” you warned. “Please don’t freak out. It’s okay if you don't—.”

Joel’s lips were pressed against yours before you could finish the sentence. You melted into his touch, your hands coming up to tangle in the messy curls at the nape of his neck. He held you firm to his mouth, his tongue dragging over your bottom lip. 

“I love you, baby,” he mumbled. “So much.”

You reeled him in for another frenzied kiss, all your efforts to contain your smile going down the drain. Oh, God. He loved you. 

“I love you, Joel.”

You sagged onto the bathroom floor. The throbbing in your head was growing stronger and stronger with each memory. You wanted to tear your brain from your skull and flush it down the toilet, but that wouldn’t help anything. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? All your memories were coming back, and yet, you desperately wished they would fade away again. 

You loved Joel. 

It was a fact you already knew, but remembering the exact moment you admitted…. You were going to be sick all over again. 

“Y’look so pretty in my t-shirt, baby,” Joel hummed.

He lay up against the headboard of the bed while you paced the room. You gripped the binding of your copy of Romeo and Juliet, your mind racing a thousand miles a minute. It was hard to focus when his bare chest was on display, the spattering of dark chest hair swirling down his torso and disappearing under the waistband of his boxers.

Focus. 

“Don’t distract me!” You pleaded. “Okay, you know how I was talking about how Romeo is just head over heels for Juliet? Get this: they kiss right away in the first act! He’s so bold with how he speaks to her, and then he just kisses her. And Juliet’s response is basically telling Romeo that all of his sin is on her lips now.”

“And what happens next, baby?” Joel asked, quirking a smile. 

“Romeo says, ‘Give me my sin again’, and then they kiss… again!” 

“Ain’t he just a romantic,” Joel chuckled. “Now, can y’get your sinful ass in bed?”

“What? This one?” You teased, flipping up the hem of his shirt. 

Joel’s eyes dropped to your backside as you exposed your naked body, and he nearly went flying across the foot of the bed to grab you. You shrieked with laughter as he tugged you onto the comforter, flipping you onto your back. 

“C’mere, baby,” he growled.

His lips trailed down your neck, sucking marks into the skin just below your collarbone. You let out a small whimper and helped guide the t-shirt off your body. Somewhere along the way, your book had dropped to the ground, but you didn’t care. You’d much rather give into the sin of Joel’s lips on your body. 

It felt like an eternity had passed when your stomach finally settled. You managed to drag yourself from the floor, staggering your way into the bedroom. The migraine behind your eyes had still yet to subside, so you threw yourself into bed and buried your body under the comforter and pillows. You had everything back—everything you wanted—but why wasn’t it enough? 

The images of Joel swam through the pressurized ache inside your mind; his smile refracted in the blinding light of a constant camera shutter. Snapshots of the past dissolved from the darkness, fragmented puzzle pieces slowly molding into place. 

Another flash, another memory. 

A frustrated scream erupted from your mouth, muffled into the pillows surrounding you. Every thought started and ended with Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel. Was this how it felt to go crazy? 

It was clear that sleep was evading you; it ran from the thought of Joel quicker than you could. Pulling yourself from the bed, you emerged into the bathroom once again and began rifling through the piles of clothes. 

What the hell were you supposed to wear to see someone who was no longer a stranger?

[oweninadaydream]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐩𝐭 𝟐 || 𝐅.𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : Say Don't Go (Taylor's version) (From The Vault) or 4 times you say 'I love you' and Finnick says nothing back.

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 : Finnick Odair x reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 : 2k

𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 : angst/fluffy ending i promise, TW: mentions of torture ,anxiety and kidnapping (first story).

𝓪/𝓷 : As promised, here's part 2 of say don't go pt 1 !!! I hope you enjoy the fic!!!

3. 𝓰𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾

You woke up in your bed, yet you could not recall how you got there. Your body felt sore and stiff but nothing could top the way your head was pounding. You were seated against the headboard and you noticed that something wasn’t right ; you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but you knew deep inside that something was different. To help calm your distress, you tried to remember anything about the day before . You realized right and then that your memory was completely blank, leaving you even more worried than you were prior to that failed attempt. 

You had assumed you were all alone, but then you saw Finnick pass through your bedroom door. “Thank God he’s here” you thought, convincing yourself that everything would be alright now that he was there with you (even if you ignored the motivation behind his unexpected visit). He slowly made his way inside and stood in the middle of the room, keeping himself at arm’s length, something extremely unusual that confirmed your gut feeling. Once he had entered your bedroom, you couldn’t help but analyze him and his strange attitude.  His movements were robotic as if someone had a remote control that forced him to act like that. His eyes had never been a mystery to you , you could always tell what was going on inside him with a single stare . But this time it was different; he was staring at you with an impassive look that you couldn't quite read, making your whole body tremble in fear and distrust.

You felt intimidated and tried to figure out what was wrong with him “Finn dear, what’s going on?" you asked with a quivering smile. You tried to lift your hand to reach his but ,for some reason, you couldn't. It felt like you were strapped to the mattress and you started panicking, as you couldn't figure out what was happening. Seeking comfort, you pleaded with him in between sobs "I'm very scared Finnick please tell me something, anything. Or just hold me because this is very confusing. I- I feel like- I can't move out of bed, I- I need you" 

He simply continued to play his stoic role ; he didn't move one inch before your panic attack or your efforts to set free from the invisible restraints holding you down. "Help me" you whispered with an expression of pure pain on your damped face. Your foggy brain couldn't process the scene before your eyes ; the person who represented love, hope and comfort in your miserable life was being a passive witness to your spectacle of fear and it didn’t seem like he was going to jump into action anytime soon. 

You noticed a rapid change in his factions. His eyes burst into flames of hatred and his clenched jaw only accentuated the shift from indifference to hostility. Instead of hurrying to console and aid you like the Finnick you knew would, this empty shell of a man that resembled him broke the distance between you and wrapped his hands around your throat, beginning to strangle you purposefully. 

You had been living in survival mode ever since you were chosen as a tribute for District 4 all those years ago, you were no stranger to fighting or death, but never in a million years would you have imagined that the man who swore to shield you from any danger would be the one stealing your breath with his bare hands in an extremely violent manner . You were desperately gasping for air and coughing while he continued to focus on his mission. 

For a moment, he seemed to let his hold loose a bit and you took the chance to try and talk him into letting go "Finn, it's me. Why are you doing this?Is anyone making you do this? We take care of each other, remember? I love you more than anything." you told him with a soft but raspy voice as a consequence of his assault. You were tired and wanted to give up, but you continued to fight for him, for your Finn to come back. Apparently, hearing your desperate confession only aggravated the situation, because you felt the strength returning to his hands. 

Suddenly, in between your cries and the lack of air , you felt yourself fading away. But before that happened , you heard a very loud scream. In the blink of an eye, you were no longer in your house and Finnick was nowhere to be seen. A white sterile room welcomed you to reality as some doctors accompanied by two peacekeepers entered the room. 

Oh, you remember now. You were kidnapped by the Capitol, who had been subjecting you to all kinds of  twisted experiments and never-ending abuse for who knows how long. The loud cries and several swear words that made you snap out of that nightmare were Johanna's, whose room was at your right. Peeta was your other neighbor, allowing you to hear them both being tortured at any given time. You looked at your arms and legs and saw the ropes tying you down , justifying the oppressing feeling you had while hallucinating. 

The main theme of your punishments for not snitching was him, Finnick Odair. Snow was more than aware of the deep devotion you held for him and how dear you were to him so he figured the perfect torture would be messing with your memories and use several techniques to impose fear and pain in your heart whenever you thought  of him or saw his face. That way, you would finally be all alone in this world ,  scared of the only thing you've ever loved so greatly and he would have to witness you shy away from him in pure terror. To meet his goal, they would drug you and play videos and recordings of him saying the meanest and cruelest words that you knew he would never be able to pronounce, but as the days passed , the truth and the imposed thoughts started to blur in one big and confusing mass. 

You were resisting quite well to President Snow's diabolic plan, but you could only hold onto your actual memories for so long. One of the last things you remembered thinking about  before you let yourself fall into madness were his eyes, and how much you loved them.

If your suffering assured his survival, you'd tell the Capitol to put you through it a thousand more times , and you would gladly do it again. If only you could have held your sweet Finnick for one more minute before letting him go forever…

4. 𝓪𝓷 𝓸𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮

The setting sun turned the white-sanded coast of District 4 a soft but enchanting shade of orange. The waves crashing against the rocks accompanied perfectly the idyllic landscape and brought a sense of calmness to the people assembled there. The summer solstice is a day where usually people celebrate the arrival of a new season, but that was not the case this time.

The beach looked magnificent, Effie had been the chief in charge of making everything (and everyone) look ideal for the occasion that brought them all together on that day. The first rows of white chairs were occupied by Haymitch, Effie, Katniss, Peeta, Johanna, Annie and right next to her, there was Mags, the woman who had taken care of you both for so many years and had seen how you two where meant to be from the first time you and your fiancé (soon to be husband) exchanged looks.

Neither you nor Finnick had ever thought about marrying anyone ; under Snow's regime, you were mere pieces of a game with no actual power of decision. But that didn't matter anymore. You were walking towards Finnick, who was nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of his suit , waiting for you at the end of the isle. When you finally arrived at your destination, you couldn't help but to turn around and go back to hug Mags, who received you with open arms and a couple of shed tears over her face. After this emotional moment, you went back to Finnick's side "Hi" you whispered so that the conversation could remain secret from all the guests "You come here often?" he teased with a beaming smile on his face. You let out a breathy laugh to relieve some tension and then you both turned so that the ceremony could start.

"I want to keep this vows short because I would need another lifetime just to expose the million reasons why this is the best day of my life. We're free, my love. It's truly over. This is our reward after a whole life of suffering and holding back. I am so in love with you, it's hard to put it into words. You know? Mags once told me that the thing I needed the most had always been right in front of me and I didn't get what she meant by that in that moment. She just laughed at me and told me that I would understand, one of these days" Mags in the front row was a tearful mess "and now I do. I really do" he stated confidently while holding your hands on his.

"My soul craves intertwining itself with yours until there's no way to separate them. So, with this ring" he then proceeded to grab your left hand so cautiously as if you would break at the minimum touch, and slip the golden ring in your finger "I, Finnick Odair, swear to protect, satisfy and devote myself to you ; my friend, my savior and now my spouse. I can't wait to spend the rest of my days with my forever love, which happens to be you" He had always hated to see you cry, even if they were happy tears, so he had to insert a little joke to see you chuckle and be able to hear the most beautiful sound on Earth ; your laugh.

You could sense that your voice would betray you at the minimum attempt to speak, so you needed to rush through your vows before you would explode into tears "God Finnick, you always know how to leave me speechless." the guests all laughed, moved by the evident complicity between the two of you.

"I always knew you were my soulmate, the person I was meant to find. The love I carry for you in my heart used to feel too heavy, but now that I get to set it free, it's more like energy rushing though my whole body, healing all the broken parts. I have the privilege to experience how it feels being loved by you and I want to try and describe it for all our friends who are here today" you breathed in and out and kept talking "Being loved by you feels like being rocked by the sea, like waking up to the smell of freshly baked goods or like being tucked into a warm bed in wintertime. It's exiting, comforting, amusing and an insane amount of other things that I could say right now" you recited while staring at his piercing green eyes that were completely red and filled with tears . You caressed his cheek and tried to wipe them away. "I will always follow you wherever you go, until the end of time. That's what I've always wanted to do and I couldn't be more exited about spending the rest of my life with such a handsome and amazing man. I love you."

Before you could do or say anything else, Finnick held your face between his hand and kissed you like he had been wanting to do since the ceremony started. You said 'I love you' and he said nothing back, but it wasn't so bad this time.

TAGLIST : @bambikitten , @thefourrealms , @shooting-a-star-at-the-moon , @justtrying2getby .

[lovelyiida]

KATSUKI BAKUGO X SECRETARY READER • A 500 FOLLOWERS SERIES!

❥ SYNOPSIS: as the years passed, Bakugo came to the realization that he was the last among his class to tie the knot. As the days grew colder, and the nights became lonelier. Bakugo finds the desire to get married, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. At least he has his trustee secretary!

implied fem reader, aged-up! Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, suggestive wording and content

❥: CHAPTERS

❥ MASTERLIST

❥ JOIN TAG LIST!

WORDS: 4.3K

PS: Please let me know if you have filled out the tag form since the last update so I can keep up to date!!

CHAPTER 8: VULNERABILITY

PHASE 2: CONSOLE

“Beady-eyed, dog-mannered, dimwad!”

Headline, headline, headline!

PRO-HERO DYNAMIGHT EXPLODES IN ANGER DURING INTERVIEW

[unreleased footage from Pop! Magazine spreads like wildfire!]

Over 3 million views, and 10 thousand shares.

Since the dawn of the moon, you have been repeatedly refreshing the page. Each and every comment was scanned with frantic-fast movements. Relishing in this whole interview fiasco from the comfort of your queen-sized bed, you moaned in anguish.

Your face became increasingly hot as you read the comments with your third glass of wine in hand. As much as you thought the comments would be demeaning to the pro-hero, the exact opposite happened!

[COMMENT] Did you see how he took up for his secretary? Omg, that was so hot.

• 45k likes • 216 shares

[COMMENT] The way he took her hand going off the set!!!!

• 78k likes • 12k shares

[COMMENT] Oh god, send me a man like Dynamight…

• 57k likes • 2k shares

[COMMENT] Bro there’s no way they aren’t fucking

• 180k likes • 3.8k shares

Of course, that’s the top comment.

Staring at your computer, you tried hard to fathom the situation you were now slapped into. The video of you and Dynamight has gone viral, and everyone now suspects that you two are in a relationship.

And they're not entirely wrong...

Despite your late-night attempts to contact the fiery hero, your calls went straight to voicemail and your texts went unanswered. Letting out a large sigh that was once trapped in your chest, you had no choice but to sit there and let the bomb explode. And await the absolute nuke that was urging to be dropped at the office.

Staring at the messages you sent Dynamight, you scowled. “Flashy piece of carbon fiber pants thinks he’s the shit and can just ignore my messages? Leaving me to the wolves once again!” you shouted in anger. You threw your phone to the end of your bed and buried yourself in your plush duvet. Your throat becomes tight as your eyes are welled with tears.

“I’m gonna teach you, Dynamight, to never fuck with me or any other secretary again.”

The pattern of clicking heels and bustling conversations filled the office today. Usually, the bleak energy of Dynamight's office could be caught with little to no attention. But the sight you’ve seen today was out of the ordinary.

“The printers are down; just send emails!”

“Has anyone been in contact with Pop Magazine? They’re completely blocking our calls!”

“God damn it, I need a raise!”

The chitter-chatter amongst your coworkers is at an all-time high. As you started to quicken the pace of your steps around the office, scowls and stares were slapped across your face. Stepping foot by foot, you reach the bathroom and hide in the nearest stall.

The door bursts open before you can even think about taking another breath. “Can you believe Dynamight fired Hitomi and Sakura for telling the truth? I mean, the whole floor has seen the video! Even Red was speechless.” A woman says her friend snickers at her remark before chiming in.

 “I’d like to see little miss Secretary say something now; she’s not beating the slut-cretary allegations at this point–”

You didn’t know what came over you at the moment, but your feet began to move before your mind could comprehend what the actual fuck was going on. Slamming the stall open, you watch the two women flinched at your action. Eyes going wide, they stare into your soulless eyes, filled with an incomprehensible anger that you didn’t know was held within you.

“First off, let’s get one thing straight right now.”

You said it flatly, closing the stall behind you. You walked up towards the duo and closed in on them. “Me and Dynamight are not a thing; have you ever taken into consideration that I’m the only person who’s in charge of this man's reputation and career, as we both fucking know it?”

"So, of course, I’ll be hip-and-hip with the brute. Do you think I want that man in that play-pen he calls a fucking office? Oh please, Dynamight needs my ass because he can barely keep his head on every second of the day. So just maybe, we should all realize how valuable I am to all of your lives!”

“Because I know that if I wasn’t here, this building would be in flames, man-made or not.”

You spoke sternly with each huff of your breath, and the two women in front of you were left speechless. Your frown soon curled into a small twitch of a smirk before you spoke once more. “So excuse me for needing to be spoken up for. You bitches, have a nice day.”

Without looking back, your feet trailed confidently out of the boss battle that was the ladies' room and straight toward Dynamight's office. With each harsh click of your heels, you stepped closer to the office, your frown stuck and growing deeper by the second. Your coworkers took into account the drastic shift in your demeanor. From shy and outspoken to confident and ten cans of bitchy.

Without thinking twice, you throw the door open with a small huff and walk into the domain of the pro-hero. Closing the door softly, you turn at your heel and scowl at Dynamight. His amber eyes burn back at you with an almost unamused look, unphased by the absolute chaos ensuing beyond the Acia wood door.

“So what? Are we just going to ignore what the press is saying about us?” You said flatly.

“I ignored your annoying ass text messages pretty much the same way,” he snapped back slyly.

This asshat.

As you stormed towards his desk, you slammed your hands against it with a loud slap that made your palms sting. “Is it possible for you to actually talk about the issue and not be a fucking brat?” You spat with anger.

Dynamight's laidback/unbothered exterior soon crumbles in slow motion. From sitting back in his seat, he approaches you with a smooth motion, his eyes glowing amber-red as his elbows land on said desk. Looking straight into your eyes, a devilish smirk etches across his face.

“Say that again for me, Y/N; go ahead.”

Faces close to one another, you could feel the heat radiating off of the hero. You frown at his attempt at intimidation, snapping your eyes away for a single millisecond before you feel a strong, warm grip on your face.

“No, don’t look away now, pretty. Say what you just said to me again. Since you have all the audacity in the world today,” he said with amusement oozing from his tone. You groaned at the sensation of his hand gripping your face, swallowing down your fear. You spoke once more.

“I said, Man up, brat.”

A long-standing pause settles over the room as his gaze burns into your eyes. Suddenly, Dynamight stands up with one swift move. The blonde removes his hand from your face, you moan in anguish at the fade of his unsettling grip and stare into the blonde's eyes once more.

You watch as the hero points his finger at himself with a mischievous smirk,

“You wanna see a brat? I’ll show you a fucking brat!”

He brushes past you and storms out of the room. Shouting your name for you to follow, you quickly turn to follow in blood-curdling anger. You knew he was a pro and all, but there’s a statistic that for every 1 out of 5 chances, a villain can take a perfect hit at a hero of his caliber.

So you might take a chance and strike him at his weak point…

Preferably somewhere in the lower region.

You watch as Dynamight calls for an emergency meeting, calling for all staff to be in attendance. All staff from each agency scurry behind his steps, and even Red Riot follows suit. He tries to calm the hero down, but his efforts fail.

As the workers sat swiftly to hear the beloved hero's comments, your heart began to beat a new rhythm as the truth dawned on you about what you dreaded would happen next.

"So, I believe we all understand why we're in here. So let's address some rumors and set them to fuckin’ rest."

A sudden pang of fear hits your chest and seeps into your body as you hear the words fall off Dynamight's tongue and through the audience of your coworkers. Eyes scan the room until your eyes fall upon a certain red-headed main in the back towards the exit.

Letting out a soft exhale of relief, you speed your way toward Red Riot.

“Red!” You spoke aloud as you gained the attention of the other pro hero. His eyes snap towards you and he points towards his beloved partner in utter confusion. “What the hell is happening now?” He exasperates in exhaustion.

“He’s having a hissy fit because he can’t handle when the public negatively views him–”

“Negative?” He interrupted. You roll your eyes and raise your hands, completely giving up on the situation playing in front of you. “Dude bumped up 10 ranks in public favor, what the hell could he be upset for?” Red Riot spoke in confusion.

Holding your briefcase towards your chest, you sigh at the current baby of the hero stabbing daggers into your form.

“I…I’m not sure.”

As the assembly room filled up, every person in their seat watched attentively as they awaited the hero's urgent message. The blonde clears his throat before groggily shoving them in his pants. Silently pacing back and forth the head of the room with slow steps, eyes still trained onto you.

“I know what everyone is thinking to themselves, why the fuck are we here? Well, I need to address some petty rumors that are going on in the concrete hellscape.”

“All Might save us…” Red Riot groaned quietly as he watched in secondhand embarrassment at the Blondes' stunts.

"If you think me and my secretary have a romantic relationship, I'm afraid you're damn wrong.”

“Don’t listen to what I might’ve said in the past, or what I’ve said in the present. It ain’t true.”

Blah blah blah, blop blop blop.

You swore you could’ve seen physical bullshit fly out of his mouth.

“To prove this…I’m happily engaged!” The hero boasts confidently to the crowd of his workers. Shoving his right hand out of his pocket and out towards the expecting crowd. A diamond-banded ring shone brightly in the bright haze of corporate lighting.

Then, in a moment both shocking and surreal, Dynamight seizes the attention of the room with a declaration that sends ripples of astonishment through the assembled crowd. With a brashness that borders on audacity, he confronts the swirling rumors head-on, his words cutting through the murmurs like a lightning bolt.

In the sudden hush that follows, the truth is laid bare, raw, and unfiltered. The bombshell revelation of your engagement sends shockwaves through the room, leaving jaws agape and minds reeling. Eyes widen in disbelief as whispers erupt, spreading like wildfire among the stunned onlookers.

Yet, amidst the chaos, Dynamight stands undaunted, his demeanor unwavering despite the tempest of reaction he has incited. His confidence radiates as he confronts the storm of speculation with a rare candor, unapologetic in the face of scrutiny.

Calm within the midst of the business casual storm.

As for you, on the other hand, you could only think of one thing to do in this situation. Your feet rush towards the blonde with a speed never before seen, and your hand flies back as far as possible before landing a seething slap on the hero’s cheek.

Dynamight lets out a gasp of shock (and so does everyone else in the room) at your hit. You stood in front of the hero for only a moment before rushing out of the room and straight out of the office.

And now what was left of you was your body sulking under your covers once more. Leaving you to pick up the pieces of your self-worth once more.

You should consider just giving up, calling off the engagement, and leaving the industry for the rest of your life. A soulless desk job would be better than whatever the fuck this reality is right now.

So much for that speech in the ladies' room...

You tried hard to care for and take up for the hero you worked for, but at times like this, your vendetta only grew stronger. And the more your sister became right. But there's a voice in the back of your head that is somewhat empathetic for the hero.

Look at his family, for All Might’s sake!

An overprotective bitch for a mother, and an emotional father with no backbone.

(it’s okay for men to show their emotions!!!)

Of course, that would create a man with a lack of emotions and a soul-crushing ego to overcompensate for it.

Of fucking course!

Sighing into your pillow, you could only fantasize about the words you’d want to say to that man right now. 

“Tight pants, brazen-boned, bastard.” You grit your teeth together, as the words only make you angrier. “Beady-eyed, dog-mannered, dimwad!” You throw your blankets off your body and jump out of bed. Rushing towards the kitchen, you grab the fridge handle and swing the door open.

“Fuck!”

No beer.

Huffing out a defeated sigh, you eye the clock on the counter. It read 11:45.

Licking your lips, you ponder as you stare at the fridge and back at the clock. You might as well go out for a walk to cool some steam off. Shuffling over to your coat rack, you lazily threw on a hoodie and some slides. Grabbing your purse and your keys, you open the door to your apartment.

Rummaging in your purse for some convenience store coupons, you continued on your slew of words. “I bet he’s not even a real blonde, just a poser of a man-baby–”

“Hah?”

Eyes snapping wide from the voice, you jump back in shock as you see the man of the hour.

“What the hell are you doing here, Dynamight? Do you know what time it is?” You exclaimed in shock, mouth twisted down into a frown. You stared down at the blonde in anger and in utter embarrassment. Looking down further, you noticed he had a couple of bags in his hands.

Beer and chicken?

“Let me in, we need to talk.”

You scoff at the man's words as you throw your purse over your shoulder. “As if, do you know how you embarrassed me and you today?” You spoke with venom at the hero. Dynamight rolls his eyes before he speaks once more, “If it makes you feel any damn better, I made them all sign NDAs.”

You stare at the hero once more in confusion, and he stares back…unwavering in his actions.

“Okay, sure, do whatever you think will place a bandaid over this whole shit show for all I care.” Placing your hands on your hips, you watch the pro hero step towards you. “Yeah? Well, it's a pretty strong bandaid.”

You hum back in response before the both of you fall into silence. The both of you gazed at each other awkwardly, before tearing your gaze away. A light blush warms your face which makes you look down once more. Looking at the bags of fried chicken and beer, you look at Dynamights hand…

His engagement ring is still on!

“You idiot!”

Frantically looking around the outside of your apartment, you turn back and quickly open the door. You then hold the hero by the collar before shoving him inside. He follows suit with a grunt before shutting the door behind him.

“What the hell is your problem?” He cursed at you.

“My problem? My problem is that you come out to my doorstep late at night bearing a peace offering with your ring on, shining brighter than ever! Fuck-face!” You cursed back. This makes the blonde smirk at your complaint.

“If you think someone is watching us, then you’re pretty late to the party,” he chuckles.

“W-what?” you stuttered in anxiety, breaking from his gaze. You locked the doors and shut the blinds to your home. “Calm down; I paid them off a long time ago,” Dynamight rummages through the bags before setting the food and beer out on the dining table.

“Paid them off?” you asked.

“Yeah, they started watching you as soon as you pulled that stunt at the children's interview a while back. They were going to trample your door down just for a couple of gabs about me.” He spoke, cracking open a can of beer. The hero takes a couple of gulps before placing the can down.

Pulling out a chair, the hero sat down and began to speak. “You think you do all of the protecting when it's me.” He takes another swig of his beer as he stares into your eyes. You swallow a lump in your throat before you grab a seat as well.

“But you can’t say I haven’t.” You trailed off.

“Haven’t what?” He asked.

“Took care of you; everyone thinks you're this strong force to never be reckoned with, but you’re the complete opposite,” you rambled as you grabbed a can of beer and cracked it open. Taking a refreshing, much-needed swig.

Katsuki never responded.

“Y’know, it’s crazy how much this position has changed me. For the good or worse… I’m not so sure.” You spoke softly towards the hero.

“And why do you think that, Y/n?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek at the question. “Before I came to this agency, I never knew what it was like to take care of someone besides myself. And even then, I was doing a shit job at it. My life was teetering on by a thin string.”

The room was silent, the only noises being the taping of Katsuki’s foot, the ticking of the clock, and the hum of your refrigerator.

“So what? You’ve never helped someone out before? Beating someone’s ass with your quirk? Nothin’?” Katsuki spoke, trying to understand where you’re coming from. But you could only let out a big sigh.

"Well, technically, I’m kinda quirkless.”

Katsuki’s tapping stopped.

He gave you a look you’ve never seen before; his eyes were growing soft and his chest began to fall. Like he’s loosening up or something. The blonde stared intensely at you, waiting for you to speak once more. Biting your lip, you continued once more.

“It's like it comes in little spurts, no matter how hard I try to concentrate and force it out. It’ll only come out at the randomest of times. I’ve never seen myself at full power before.”

“One moment I was just like you, young and so excited about my quirk. I grew up thinking that I was going to save the world and that I’d work hard and conquer my way to the top. But the thing is, as yours grew stronger, I was only getting weaker. And the next thing I knew, I woke up, and it was gone.”

“So I went through life with the mentality that I needed to give myself a bit more attention; I couldn’t just wing through life knowing that my quirk could save me. But I knew that if I could have a position of power, that would make me feel like I was making a difference out there for you of all people…”

You suddenly laughed at yourself, taking another swig of your beer.

“Sorry, I don’t even know what I’m saying, I’m already buzzed.”

“No.”

You looked at Katsuki as he spoke, a frown on his lips as he shook his head. You couldn't help but laugh at his demeanor. “All I’m saying is that maybe I wasn’t as cut out for this as I thought I would be. Maybe I’m meant to be a walking target that villains can smell. I’m a walking damsel in distress, honestly. If we didn’t meet through the agency, we could’ve met that way most likely–”

“Shut up.”

Katsuki deadpanned at your words.

“I knew someone who was quirkless, and that loser is stronger than me for all might’s sake!” He exclaimed.

“All I’m saying is that you have a good life, so be proud of it. You work hard, harder than I’ve seen most of the chicken heads that I’ve hired. So bask in that glory.” He says softly, you roll your eyes before you start up again.

“I have a good life? Says the multi-acclaimed pro hero Dynamight! Ranked number two out of the whole country, he drives a red sports car, lives in a nice childhood home, goes to a great school, gets to roll around in money, and gets to tell people how they should dress for five days out of the week? Right, my life is really good.”

You snorted at yourself, reveling in the truth you spoke. But all Katsuki could do was shake his head.

“That same person who you were talking about has almost died countless times, kidnapped in their first year of high school, and has lost too many friends and mentors to count. So yeah, I consider you to have a good life.”

You let out a bittersweet chuckle at his words, “There’s one more thing too.” You added on, Katsuki raised his eyebrows in amusement, “like?”

“You’re also the last to get married.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes and lets out an amused smirk. “Right, that’s checkmate for me–”

“How come you’re the last? I would think that you’d be the first! You’re not a bad-looking guy; you might need to work in the emotional availability department but. You’re crystal clear.”

“I uh…  I tried to do the whole young love thing but it didn’t work out in my favor.” He responded softly towards the touchy subject, but you decided to persist.

“And why do you think that, Katsuki?”

Back when Bakugo was a younger, newly emerged pro, there was someone of his caliber that he found perfect. They had the spunk, the quirk, the personality, the looks, even the barons. He believed they were perfect for each other.

He had his sights set on them since he had been working in the force. At first, they were a nice distraction. Clever banter turned into hot makeout sessions. Training days turned into blanket-covered nights where the both of them would talk about their future.

And back then, he believed it. He believed that he had a future with them.

Sometimes he would envy Kirishima; he didn’t understand why he wasn’t chosen to bear the burden of love. A warmth beyond his comprehension, a family that he could selfishly call his own.

Sometimes his mind would trail back to that night. A night that he wished he could forget. A thought that he wished could be locked away forever. He remembers the sight as he looked into their eyes—the utter betrayal.

The smirk of mischief and evil as the one and only person he ever could love has turned against him. The moment when he got stabbed in the chest, too close to his heart. And in that moment, he had to choose selfishly in a way he never wanted to.

And that choice was his life over theirs.

You didn’t know what to say at the moment, Katuski just dropped the biggest bomb you had the burden of holding. Stammering with your thoughts, you say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Katsuki…”

“I would’ve never known–”

“It wasn’t for you to know; I don’t even know why I told you that,” he said to himself. You softly smile at his harsh words.

“Well, not to toot my own horn but I’m your fiance,” you chuckled. Katsuki gives you a smirk before he looks at your hand. "Then, where’s your ring?” He asked.

“In my room, placed somewhere safe and out of harm's way!” you smiled.

"Well, I’m gonna need you to start wearin’ it more,” he retorted.

“I figured that after your little speech, you gave us away like you weren’t even trying.” You spat out sarcastically. “I didn’t even mention your name!” He raised his voice in protest. “Yeah? Well, I’m sure everyone connected the dots to a perfect fuckin T.” You spoke with a smirk.

"Well then if they decide to connect those lines to the press, that NDA will be there waiting for them to get bit in the ass,” he snapped back.

You laugh at his words before taking a final sip of your beer.

“Why did you choose to give yourself a chance with me?”

Oh, you were buzzed.

“You are a hero that’s supposed to date other heroes, top models, and superstars of your caliber. Why date some small-town secretary that doesn’t even fully have a quirk?” you spoke, just above a whisper. Scared of his next response. Feeling that as if you got the wrong response, you just might hurl all over him.

Katsuki lets out a sigh before he silently panders to himself. He was eyeing you up and down before he finally spoke with a smirk.

“I’m not sure, wishful thinking?”

“asshole”

YAAAAAAAAASSSSUHU IM BACK IM BACK

I saw all your comments begging me to come back, next chapter when? next chapter when? NEXT CHAPTER NOW HOE

As you all might know now, I am a busy college student who finally has time to fantasize and write to my heart's content. SO YOU WILL BE GETTING MORE CHAPTERS OUT OF ME VERY SOON!!

Thank you all so much for the support, I love you all and hope you guys have an amazing read! Please let me know how I did in the comments. Comments and reposts are very much appreciated!!

— lovelyiida 

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